


A Work of Art

by You_make_me_smile



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Female Character, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:58:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2131041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_make_me_smile/pseuds/You_make_me_smile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have a close working relationship with Benedict on the set of Sherlock. Will it remain that way or will things go further than you have ever thought possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Ruined Day

You stepped out of the front door of you house and shivered. The air that brushed against your exposed skin caused it to erupt in goose bumps. It was a cool, crisp fall morning; the sun beginning to paint the sky with pale pinks and yellows and the leaves on the carefully manicured trees were beginning to change colour. A smile graced you lips and you sigh with contentment. It was beautiful day to start, in your opinion, a well-deserved vacation. Your smile widens and you began to stretch, leaning to one side and then the other. You walk over to the iron wrought fence in front of your two-storey, white walled home. You hold onto the top of a post so you could stretch your legs. Running in this weather with cold muscles only welcomed injuries.

At last, you turn on your music and start slowly down the sidewalk. Quickly, you picked up the pace until your strides matched the beat. It had been awhile since you could go for a run; your job required early morning starts and depending on the day, often ran late into the evening. This was your first vacation since you signed on with BBC. Between Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock, there was barely enough time to sit down and eat. Not that you minded, you couldn’t imagine any other job that gave you the gratification that this one did. The people you worked with could be a little eccentric at times and frustrating at others but all round they were lovely to work with.

Your muscles protested at first but eventually fell into the familiar rhythm of stretch and release. Your breathing fell into the pattern of inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth. Your lungs filled with the cool air and your muscles burned with use. The pounding on your feet on the sidewalk matched the beat of the bass drum. You felt adrenaline begin pump through your body, driving away the pain from the lactic acid that was building up in your legs. There was not a better day to be alive.

A ring cut through your music and you quickly pull out your phone to see who would be calling you. You slowed down to a walk and let out a frustrated sigh. Work was calling you. For a moment you thought about ignoring it but things must be desperate indeed for them to be calling you. You told them, during the previous week, that if someone called you, they had better be dying.  You reluctantly pressed the answer button.

“Hello?”  

“Hello _____.” You immediately recognized the voice.

“Mark. How are you? Are you dying?” You asked, slightly out of breath.

“I may very well wish I was in the next couple hours.” He replied dryly.

“What has happened now?” You inquire.

“Paula has come down with a terrible stomach bug and the intern has stepped in to do Ben and Martin’s make-up.” He replied. Your eyes widen and you let out a little groan. You had arranged with Paula that she would take over responsibility for Ben’s make-up in addition to Martin’s so you could have the week off. Paula had an intern, Corian, shadowing her in attempt to learn the tricks of the trade. You had started her off with the faces of the extras; the pedestrians, the police officers for the station and the gentlemen who sat in silence at the fictional Diogenes Club. The results had been disastrous and you had spent hours fixing it. Since then, Paula had given her dummies to practice the techniques on.

“Who gave her permission?” You asked.

“I believe she gave herself permission. She walked into the make-up trailer, announced that Paula was sick and she was to fill in.” Mark said in a humourless voice.

“How much time do we have before filming starts?”

“It should have started ten minutes ago but alas it has not.” He said with a sigh.

“I will grab a cab and be there within 20 minutes. Will you be able to get any takes down without Ben and Martin?” You raised your hand to hail a passing cab.

“Possibly.” His words were doubtful.

“On route.” You replied and ended the call. Climbing into the cab, you told the driver the address and the car was off. You leaned forward, aware that there was sheen of sweat on your back. You let out a sigh and placed your head in your hands. This was supposed to be the beginning of your vacation and yet you were heading back to work. Corian, you frown at her name. She had shown no improvement nor any interest in improving from the first time you had watched her apply make-up. She had a terrible work ethic; laziness and lateness at the top of the list. You were surprised that she was even on set this early. You pinched the bridge of your nose and tried to imagine what she had done this time.  The cab pulled up to the curb outside the studio. You paid him and exited the cab. You walk towards the building and you realized that you didn’t have a way to get passed the security desk. Perhaps the officer on duty will recognize you or maybe you could ring Mark to come and get you. Upon opening the door, you see Mark standing beside the desk, his brow furrowed. You could see the worry on his eyes and in the downturn of his lips. You feel trepidation spread through your body at his face. What had happened in your absence?   

Mark arched an eyebrow at your appearance. You could imagine how you looked. Your hair was a mess from the wind, your cheeks flushed and your clothes sticking to you from the sweat that had yet to dry.

“I was out for a run when you called me.” You shrugged. “From the way you sounded on the phone, I didn’t have time to go home and change.”

“Thank you for getting here so quickly.” Mark said, a small smile on his face. He turned and you lengthened your stride to match the taller man’s gait. You followed Mark through the jumble of cords, cameras and sound equipment. People who normally should have been bustling with activity sat idle, chatting and occasionally laughing. They were waiting for Ben and Martin to transform the empty living room into 221B Baker Street, which also meant that they were waiting for you so that their day could begin.

You arrived at the make-up department and Mark turned to face you before opening the door.

“Brace yourself.” He said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors. I am on a little bit of a time crunch and wanted to get this to all my lovely readers before I leave on my camping trip. Enjoy.

You take a deep breath and walk through the door that Mark had opened.  Ben sat in your make-up chair, his eyes closed and his breathing even. You couldn’t tell if he was sleeping but it wouldn’t have been the first time he had fallen asleep in that chair. His face was layered in foundation which wasn’t blended in, making his head look like it was detached from his body. There were dark circles around his eyes, giving them a sunken appearance. Brown and gray lines followed his sharp cheekbones, slimming his already long face.

“Well if you ever decided to do a Halloween special that may be the look you want to go for.” You tried to make a joke out of the situation. Mark gave you another small smile before bidding you farewell.  You look at your station. Bottles of various foundation colours had fallen, leaving pools of drying liquid on the table. Some of your powders had been dropped and the dust trailed around the chair. Dirty sponges and brushes lay haphazardly around your work station. You grit your teeth and move towards the chair.

“Good morning sleepy head.” You said, making your voice cheerful. Ben groaned and slowly opened his eyes. He jolted at his appearance in the mirror.

“Heavens, what happened?” He asked, attempting to orient himself with the being in the mirror.

“There’s been an outbreak of zombies on the set. All zombies have been quarantined to reduce the spread of the infection. The brave Mark Gatiss and his devious companion, Steven Moffat have sent a brave make-up artist to single-handedly avert the crisis” You replied, joking. He let out a chuckle.

“So what happens to the little make-up artist? Does she not run the risk of infection being in close quarters with the zombie.” He asked, a mock look of concern on his face.

“Fortunately, she is completely immune to the outbreak. We must begin the treatment now if it is to be a complete success.” You replied, making your tone serious and determined. Ben chuckles again.

“Well save me brave little make-up artist. I want to live again.” He said in a pleading tone, his eyes wide. You respond by throwing a towel at him.

“The first phase of treatment is to wash that hideousness off your face while I prep the second step.”

Ben rose from the chair and cross the room to the sink. While he scrubbed his face, you righted the over-turned bottles and begin mopping up the spilt fluids with paper towel. After that mess was tidied up, you retrieved the broom from the closet and swept up the make-up off the floor.

“Good thing my make-up case is locked.” You muttered to yourself as you retrieved it from its hiding place. “Otherwise, we would be up shit creek without a paddle.”

There was a knock on the door and Mark poked his head back in.

“Tragedy it seems, has struck again.” He said, as the zombie version of Martin enters the room.

“Oh bloody Hell.” You growled. Ben turned at your voice. His face was red from removing the make-up and water glistened in his hair. He burst into laughter at Martin’s face only to receive a middle finger in return. You smile at their exchange and grab another towel from the shelf.

“Alright my lad, off to the sink with you.” You said, handing Martin the towel.

“I’ll have you know that I am old enough to be your father.” He said, cheekily.

“At the moment, you are old enough to be my great grandfather.” You replied, matching his tone. You point to the sink. “Off you pop.” You turned back to Mark.

“How much time do I have?”

“We’re already running late so at this point it doesn’t matter.” He shrugged. You tilt your head thinking.

“It shouldn’t take me long to get their make-up done.” You said, musing. “Perhaps the costume department could bring Ben’s and Martin’s outfits over and they can walk out of here, ready to work.”

“Excellent. I will have someone come over shortly.” Mark said, whisking himself out the door. Turning back to your charges, you find that Ben is attempting to start a towel fight with Martin. You heard the towel snap, and Martin let out a yelp as the towel hit him in the ribs. Martin rolls his towel and pulls it back, ready to retaliate.

 _I am working with children; zombie children._ You thought before interrupting their play.

“Alright children. Ben, into the chair with you.” You chided, using your best mothering voice. “Keep scrubbing your face, Martin. There are at least four more layers of foundation to get through.”

 Martin turned back to the sink and resumed his task. Ben hung his head in mock humility and shuffled his feet as he crossed the floor. He raised his head and you could see the glint of humor in his green-blue eyes; a mischievous smile lit up his face.

“What now?” He asked, “Has Phase One been successful?”

“Almost.” You pulled some wipes from your kit and began gently wiping around his hair line, nose and jaw to remove any remainders of the make-up. You silently pray that your deodorant was working. Being this close to anyone’s face, let alone one of the most attractive men in England, after running for any length of time was embarrassing

“Phase One complete.” You said, emphasizing your point by throwing the dirty wipes into the trash. “Are you ready for Phase 2?” He nods as you plug in the hair dryer. You switch it on to low and carefully dry his dark curls. Fortunately, Sherlock’s hair often appeared untidy, so you had the pleasure of running your fingers through his soft hair.  You could feel Ben relax into the chair and he let out a soft sigh.

“This is my second favourite part about ready in the morning.” He said, his eyes closing. You hummed in agreement, paying more attention to the quickly drying hair than what he was saying. You switched the hair dryer off and replaced it in its holster on the side of the counter. Martin had finished washing and had sat down in the chair beside Ben.

“What’s your first?” He asked, his eyebrows arched at his partner in crime. Your back was turned to them as you assembled the items you needed, so you didn’t see Ben’s face flush. You heard Ben mumble something and Martin laughed in response. You turned back to Ben, a clean brush in your hand and a bottle of primer in the other. You cover the bristles of the brush with primer and gently brush it onto his cheekbones.

“What is your favourite part of the morning Ben?” you asked, realizing you hadn’t heard his answer. You notice a faint blush come into his cheeks. You paused to recoat the brush and looked up to find his beautiful eyes on you.

“Er…. The music.” He said causing Martin to snicker. Ben threw him a sharp look and the blush deepened.

“The music! I totally forgot!” You drop the brush and primer carelessly onto the counter before grabbing your phone. You chose a song and plug it into the speakers that you had brought and left there several months ago.  The first notes of Michael Jackson’s Thriller fill the room, making the Martin grin and Ben to arch a perfectly doctored eyebrow at you.

“What? I thought it was appropriate for this morning.” You grinned and resumed applying primer to Ben’s face. Ben chuckled.

“I suppose it is although I can’t fathom why this song would making me want to return to the living.” He replied.

“Hey! This is a classic! Probably the one of the best Halloween songs ever. That and the Monster Mash.” You pretended to be offended but you were unable to hold it for very long. You switched to the pale foundation for his face.

“The zombies have a pretty killer dance routine.” Martin piped up from his chair.

“Thank you!” You said, flinging your arm in his direction. “See, Martin agrees with me.” Martin winks at you and you scrunch up your nose at him.

“Alright, my dear, close your eyes.” You held up a spray bottle that would set his make-up and keep it on his face. Ben obliged, taking a deep gulp of air and closed his eyes.

“Always the drama queen.” You commented and his lips quirk up into a smile. You quickly spray his face lest he run out of breath. You look up as the door flies open and two people enter the room.

“Speaking of drama queens…” You mutter under your breath. The costume director flutters into the room like a human butterfly. She surveys the room with a cool glance and her eyes fall on Martin.

“He is not done yet. I don’t know what the big rush was to get here when it blindingly obviously the make-up department has dropped the ball again.” She gestured at room though she was referring to you.

“What is this horrendous music?” She continued to rant and you tuned her out, having found it better to let her finish rather than interrupting her. There was a bitter enmity between Nisha and yourself dating back to the days when you were both interns at BBC. It may have been the tea that you accidently spilled on her new outfit after you tripped. You had been busy gaping at all of the celebrities that were walking down the hall, one in particular.

********

It was the first day of you internship at BBC. You had begged and pestered and bothered your professor until she agreed to send you to the British Broadcasting Corporation. You had dreamed of working there since you heard the theme song of Doctor Who coming through the speakers of your television set. You arrived in England in a flurry of excitement and nerves which only grew as your first day of internship approached. You and a group of other interns were following a tour guide down the hall. You were pulling your make-up case with one hand and carrying a warm tea in the other. You were trying to look at what your guide was pointing out when a tall figure in the crowd caught your eye. Your heart fluttered and your breath got caught in your throat.

_Holy shit! I can’t believe it’s him. I am breathing the same air as THE Benedict Cumberbatch._

Benedict was striding down the hall dressed in a dark grey suit with a purple tie. He was chatting and laughing with Martin Freeman about their new show. You gave yourself a mental shake before noticing that your tour group had moved further down the hallway.  Not wanting to be the intern who got marked out as a creeper, you hurry down the hallway to catch up with the tour. The heel of your shoe caught on the wheel of your case and you fell forward with a cry. Things seemed to slow down as you fell. Your tea slipped from your grip and the liquid spiralled out of the cup and splashing on to the girl in front of you. Her shoulders clenched as the tea hit her. You hit the floor with a thud with your cup landing beside you. You heard laughter and saw the girl spin around to give you a piece of her mind. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. Suddenly, some black dress shoes came in your view.

“Are you all right?” A deep baritone voice asked. Your eyes travelled up dark grey trousers, past the coat and purple tie and rested on a long face with defined cheekbones, cupid bow lips and blue-green eyes filled concern. You pushed yourself into a sitting position and he offered you a hand to help you up. You took it and stood, your face flushing a deep red.

“I am fine though that was more than embarrassing. Nothing like getting to know your peers by throwing a cup of tea on them.” You said lamely. You staring at the ground, your face burning. You received a rumbling chuckle, causing you to look at his face. There was a small smile on his face and his eyes glinted with amusement.

“That is definitely one way to introduce yourself although I might tone it down a tad in the future.” He said in a confidential tone.

 “Thanks.” You mutter and turn to do some damage control.

*******          

“When you are quite done, Ben is ready and I will be finished with Martin before Ben gets that coat on.” You said calmly though your temper demanded action. Nisha blinked at you, perhaps startled by your composure or the look Ben was giving her. Ben moved over get his clothes and you turn to Martin. You quickly wipe away any trace of this morning’s catastrophe and disposed of the wipes. Martin’s hair had dried during the time it had taken you to do Ben’s make-up. You combed it into place before priming his face.

“What a witch.” He whispered and the corners of your mouth quirk up. “Perhaps we could warm up that chilly disposition with a cup of nice hot tea.”

Your eyes widen and you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled forth from your throat. You quickly turn it into a cough after a sharp glance from the costume director.

“Martin!” You hiss, “You are going to get me killed before I’ve had breakfast.”

“Well, we can’t have that. One should always die on a full stomach.” He shot back. “Have you not eaten?”

You shook your head and put the finishing touches on his foundation. “Close your eyes.”

“Seriously? You haven’t had breakfast yet?” He said, raising his voice slightly.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I will eat when I am done fixing your ugly mug.” You reply, slightly annoyed and Martin smiled agreeably. “Close your eyes.”

“Say please.” He said sweetly.

“For God’s sake! Please Mr. Freeman, close your eyes.” You growl as he complied with a laugh. Just as you dried the spray on Martin’s face, Ben was pulling on Sherlock’s long trench coat.

“Go get dressed Mr. Watson. You partner in crime awaits you.”


	3. 76 Trombones

Martin got out of the chair and went to get into his costumes. You turn to tidy up, putting away the foundation and primer. You pulled out a lotion that you used to clean the make-up of your brushes and doused them generously. As you went to pick up some paper towel, you became aware that someone was watching you. You straighten and found Ben’s eyes on you, intent and piercing.

_Gods, he is so beautiful. I just want to –_

Stopping the inappropriate thoughts in their tracks, you offer him a grin, which he is quick to return.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” You said cheekily to break the silence. You had meant it sarcastically and sincerely hoped that Ben picked up on that sarcasm.

“What a fabulous idea!” Ben moved towards you, pulling out his phone.

_Damn. Me and my sarcastic wit._

“Ben! I was joking. I don’t want my picture taken! Plus look at you,” Ben paused and looked down at himself, trying to find what might possibly be wrong with his appearance. You stepped forward and reached up to straighten the collar on his shirt. The collar had twisted leaving one side sticking into the air and the other side twisted under. He leaned forward slightly so you could reach the back and felt his warm breath on your face. You did your best to ignore the way your heart was starting to pick up the pace and the sudden need for more oxygen. His cologne and the faint scent of cigarettes filled you nose, making the world blur slightly. Your brain dimly registered that the music had switched to a romantic ballad.

“There all fixed.” With an extraordinary amount of willpower, you step back and take a deep breath in an attempt to steady yourself. Ben straightened; his face a mixture of gratitude and something else that you couldn’t put your finger on. Frustration maybe.

“Thanks for making me into work of art.” He said, putting a long, slender hand on your shoulder. You look at his face to see if he was joking or not but he looked sincere. You could feel the warmth of his hand burning through your shirt and your skin.

_I wonder how his hands feel elsewhere. You shook your head to clear away those thoughts._

“That’s hardly a challenge, Ben. Martin on the other hand…” You said with a chuckle. Out of the corner of your eye a hand flew up, its middle finger extended. Ben saw it as well and laugh came from his mouth. “Anyway, Mr. Holmes, there is a game a foot and it needs the brilliant mind of the world’s only consulting detective to solve it. Off you go.” Ben gave you a playful wink and pulled flipped up his coat collar. Martin let out a groan and rolled his eyes as Ben walked out the door followed by the Nisha and her minion.

“Did you really need to do that? His head is big enough as it is.” Martin asked.

“I heard that.” Ben’s voice drifted back through the door. Martin moved to leave but turned back to you.

“_____________?” “Hmm?” You looked up from cleaning the brushes.

“Breakfast.” Martin said, his face expression stern before leaving you alone in the trailer.

“Bloody hobbit.” You muttered to yourself as the door shut. Looking around the room, you evaluate the mess in front of you. There still the brushes that needed to be cleaned, the counter needed a proper wipe down as did the floor. The chairs needed to be sprayed and towels put in the laundry. Your stomach gurgled reminding you that it needed to be fed.

“You’ll just have to wait. I have things to do before I can feed you.” You told your stomach firmly. You changed the music on your phone to the soundtrack of the Music Man and began to clean up. You began to hum as you wiped down the counters. By the time you began to re-sweep the floor, you were using the broom as a trombone, marching up and down the room. Someone cleared their throat and you dropped the broom with a shriek. Embarrassed, you retrieved the broom from the floor and looked towards the door. You felt your face burn when you saw the tall figure with a trench coat standing there.

“Ben! I…um…I…” You stammered trying to find the words, your face deepened in colour. “Well this is awkward.” Your gaze dropped to the floor

“Your trombone skills are remarkable though I had you pegged as a coronet player.” He said with a grin. You want to hide in the corner. “I would be the parade leader myself. I have always loved their hats.” He continued, “Their feathers and that little jewel catching the sun.” You glanced up to see his face thoughtful and his eyes filled with merriment.

“Please don’t tell anyone about this.” You said, quietly and after a moment you added, “Especially Martin.” You grimaced at the thought of Martin’s teasing.

“I couldn’t fathom why you want to hide such skills from the world darling but I will keep it our little secret.” He put his fingers in front of his lips and turned his hand, locking his lips up tight. “Thanks Ben.” You murmur. Wondering why he was standing front of you rather than sitting in the living room of 221B. “Did you need me for anything?” You moved closer to peer at his make-up.

“I …er… I always fancy a shower after a run and since you had to come to work in the middle of yours…” Ben trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed this time. He rubbed the back of his neck before continuing, “You could use my trailer to…um.” He looked at you for help.

“I would appreciate that. The showers in the locker rooms just don’t have enough privacy.” You spoke up. “Plus they are a little gross.” Ben looked relieved as he dug into his trouser pocket for his keys. He pulled them out and held up a silver key from the ring. You took it carefully from him, making a mental note that the key was in between a gold key and what looked to be a car key.

“Here’s the one for my trailer. Help yourself to…” A chime cut Ben off and another sounded before he could get it from his pocket. He looked at the screen before looking back at you. “Martin just sent me a text. They need me on set.” Ben’s brow furrowed in puzzlement, “The other one just says breakfast, all in capital letters.”

“That would be for me. I haven’t eaten yet but I plan on doing so once I had cleaned up here.” You rushed to finish your sentence since Ben looked like he was going to interject. You raise your hands and held up the first three fingers in a salute. “I solemnly swear that I will have breakfast after I shower and finish tidying up here.” Ben arched an eyebrow at you, “Girl Scout’s honour. We don’t take those promises lightly.” You finished in a sincere tone. Ben’s phone chimed again and he glanced at the screen.

“I have to go.” You nodded with a grin on his face.

“Would you like me to play some fanfare on your way out?” You asked sweetly, holding the broom up. Ben laughed and held his hands up in front of him.

“No need darling. I can make my way to the door without embellishment.” With a wink, he was gone. You sank into the chair beside you.

 _Well that was probably top the chart of embarrassing things you’ve done_. You smacked yourself in the forehead. _It could have been worse. At least it wasn’t Martin who walked in. He probably would have shot a video and shown it to the entire creative team. I would have to quit and move back home, never to show my face_ again. Your thoughts shifted as you replayed the incident over in your head. _Ben called me darling. Not once but twice. It sounded beautiful. I could listen to that all my life._

You pondered for a moment what it would be like to date and possibly marry the most sought after man in Britain. A first the idea seemed lovely, having Ben all to yourself. His deep, rumbling voice saying your name in tenderness, wild and passion-filled nights but the more you thought about it the more the ludicrous the idea became. Someone like Ben was way out of your league and seemed almost as unattainable as the stars. Not that you weren’t pretty but you definitely didn’t stand out from the crowd. You studied your face in the mirror, turning it this and that, watching the light catch the angles of your face. There was no make-up on your face, not even mascara. Most mornings you couldn’t be bothered with it. Sleep was much higher on your priority list and there had been many days where you just rolled out of bed, pulled on some clean-looking clothes and went out the door, a piece of toast in your mouth. Your hair was pulled back in some semblance of a ponytail with wisps and stray hair sticking out wherever they pleased. Sighing, you attempted to smooth your hair but it resisted making the mess worse. You stood up, locked up your make-up case and returned it to its hiding place. You shut the music off and pocketed your phone. With one final glance about the room, you shut of the lights and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely adore the Music Man. Feedback is always welcome and I enjoy reading your comments :)


	4. A Welcome Shower

Your stomach growled once as again reminding you that your last meal was over eighteen hours ago. You were heading in the direction of Ben’s trailer, intent on ridding yourself of the sweat that had dried on your skin when a group of young girls passed you. Hard to believe that excited fangirl was you only two years ago. They stared around them with wide eyes and carried an air of barely contained excitement around them. Some clutched posters of a brooding Sherlock, his hands steepled under his chin or his silhouette outlined in the window of 221B. Others carried pictures from Benedict’s latest photo shoot, his facial expressions displaying a range of emotions. The one that caught your eye was one Ben with a small smile on his lips, looking lovingly at the camera. You continue on your way, your thoughts turning into a day dream as you walked.

_Ben opened the front door and dropped his duffel bag on the tiled floor._

_“Hello?” He called into an empty house, his voice echoing in the hallway. He frowned slightly when there was no answer. Quiet music reached his ears and he followed the sound of piano music out on the sunroom. The room was filled with an array of wooden furniture, pillows and throws in earthy tones as well as potted plants. Sunlight streamed through the lattice, covering the floor with a checker pattern. He took a deep breath and was filled with the sense of home. Ben wandered towards the patio entrance and wasn’t surprised to see your form kneeling by the pond. He watched you for a moment, a small smile on his lips. You became aware of a familiar presence and you turn your head to see Ben’s tall, slim figure leaning against casually against the door frame._

_“Ben!” You yell excitedly, dropping the dirt-covered shovel to ground and quickly made your way up the stone pathway. He straightened and caught you in his strong arms, wrapping you in a bear hug. The smell of his leather jacket and cologne filled your nose with a heady scent. His warmth enveloped you and all the stress of the past weeks melt away._

_“Gods, I have missed you my love.” He said, his baritone resonating in his chest. “Remind me never to schedule projects back to back again.”_

_“Never schedule projects back to back darling. You have been gone so long that I forgot what you looked like.” You murmur back, tracing his jaw with a gloved finger. He took your hand and stripped the glove off, one finger at the time. His hand gently took a hold of yours and he turned it over so your palm faced upwards, kissing it in the middle. You met his blue-green eyes and saw the hunger growing in them causing your stomach tightened in anticipation._

_“Now we can’t have that.” Ben growled and bent his mouth to yours._

A row of white trailers appeared in the line of your view though lost in your thoughts as you were, you didn’t become aware of them until you almost tripped on the first set of steps. Your face flushed with a combination of embarrassment and the whirling feelings lingering from your most recent daydream. Glancing quickly around to see if anyone saw your mishap, you pulled out the keys Ben gave you and opened the door.

The inside looked much like a standard trailer with little personal touches here and there. A book of Shakespeare’s work lay open on the table You weren’t surprised that the pages were open to Hamlet. Ben had talked frequently about his desire to play the main role but the opportunity had passed him by when he accepted the role of Khan in Star Trek. A half full glass of water and plate of crumb sat beside the book. A laptop was open on the table and pictures were drifting lazily across the screen. Curious, you decide to take a closer look. A picture of Ben and Martin making duck faces came up on the screen and you couldn’t help but laugh. That one faded and another appeared. This one was Tom and Ben posing for a magazine shoot. Tom’s hand was on Ben’s shoulder in a show and they each had a mischievous glint in their eyes. The sun caught the auburn colour in Ben’s hair, bringing out glints of blonde. You were about to turn away when a picture of you came onto the screen. You were looking through the railing bars, the sun shining through the window with a large grin on your face.

*******

You had been sitting in the stairwell at a location shoot for A Study in Pink. After applying the make-up to half a dozen police extras, you were enjoying a break. The sun was streaming in through the window and you had your face turned towards it, soaking in the warmth of rays. Shooting wouldn’t begin for at least another hour as the production crew waited for the sun to set.

“________.” You heard a voice call your name and you turned in the direction of the sound. Ben looked at you through the railings with a charming smile on his face. You return the smile and he quickly pulls out his phone and snaps a picture.

“Ben!” You cried, getting up from your spot on the step.”You delete that this moment!”

“Why? It’s lovely.” He said, studying it before moving it out of reach as you grabbed for the phone.

“Please? I hate my picture being taken.” You pleaded, trying to retain some dignity by not jumping for the phone.

“If you can reach the phone, I will delete it.” He said with a smirk. You narrow your eyes at him and begin to assess the problem. Jumping was out of the question and giving up was not in your nature so you went to the next solution. With a sly smile, you moved up two steps but before you had a chance to grab the phone Mark’s voice drifted up the stairwell.

“_________. Your assistance is required.” You made a swipe for the phone and lost your footing, falling forward. Ben caught you with a grunt, his arms wrapping protectively around you; the phone momentarily forgotten. You looked up and saw Ben’s intense gaze on, time seemed to freeze. A throat cleared and you both started. Mark stood in the stairwell with his eyebrow arched and arms crossed.

“Erm… Thanks.” You said, quickly pushing yourself upright and quickly made your way down the stairs under the glare of your boss.    

*******

You didn’t know why Ben would have kept that picture of you after all he was friends with some the world’s most attractive people. As if to emphasize your point, the computer switched to a picture of Kylie Minogue and Ben posing together, both with large grins on their faces.

_This is silly. I don’t have time to waste daydreaming over something that is less likely to happen than a pig flying._ Giving yourself a mental shake, you headed down the small hall and into the bathroom. Quickly stripping yourself of your sweaty clothes, you placed them on haphazardly on the top of the toilet and stepped into the shower, letting out an audible sigh. The hot water eased your tense muscles and washed away some of the frustration of being called into work that morning. You roll your shoulders and take a deep breath, drawing the warm air and steam into your lungs.

After a long moment, you went to wash your hair and realized that you would have to use Ben’s shampoo. And his soap.

_That’s not a bad thing. He usually smells good._ You thought as you peered around for a clean washcloth. There wasn’t one in sight so you stepped out of the shower and searched the only cupboard in the room. After grabbing a folded washcloth from the shelf, you clambered back into the shower, careful not the slip on the floor. That was the last thing you needed; Ben walking into the bathroom and you sprawled out naked, wet and unconscious on the floor. You finished up washing yourself and shut the shower off, the cold air immediately raising goose bumps on your skin. You stepped out of the shower and into a puddle of water.

You looked around to find your trousers and shirt laying in a sopping mess by the toilet.

_Double shit. I have successfully flooded the bathroom and soaked my clothes. What am I going to wear now?_

You let out a sigh as all your frustration returned. Taking several towels from the cupboard, you place, your clothes in the sink and dry the floor. What were you going to wear now? It was one thing to put sweaty clothes back on but waterlogged clothes. You wring out your shirt in the sink, squeezing out as much water as possible. Your trousers were next but being bulkier, they were harder to get the water out of.

_Perhaps he has a hair dryer._

It was a long shot since Ben often didn’t take a large amount of time to get ready. It often seemed on his days off that he would picked clothes out of a drawer with his eyes shut, not caring whether they matched or not and he neglected his comb, choosing his fingers as a suitable replacement. You desperately search the cupboard and turn up empty handed.

_Maybe he has a fan somewhere._

The fan wouldn’t work as well as a hair dryer but it was something. Carefully wrapping a towel around yourself, you open the door and poked your head out.

“Hello?” You called out tentatively. After waiting several seconds for a response, you stepped out into the hallway and looked around the living room. No fan.

_Maybe he sleeps with a fan on._

Moving quietly down the hallway, you imagine for a moment that you were a spy breaking into somewhere you shouldn’t be. Oh wait. That was exactly what you were doing.

You turned the door knob and pushed it open, revealing an unmade bed and clothes strewn upon the floor. You tiptoe into the room, glancing around in hopes of finding a fan. The door swings shut behind you causing you to jump at the noise. Your heart still pounding, you continue to search the room. A picture of Amanda Abbington and Martin with their children sat on Ben’s night stand along with a picture of Ben’s parents. Still no fan. You head back to the door but before you could get there, it swung open and you saw Ben standing there with a surprised look on his face.

“Ben!” You exclaimed as you pulled the towel tighter around yourself. His eyes widen further when he noticed that you were standing in the middle of his room in nothing but a towel. He took a step towards you, his eyes focused on your face. Your eyes widened as you take a step backwards, raising your hands in front of you

“This is isn’t what it looks like. I can explain. I was in the shower and I needed a wash cloth and there wasn’t one in there so I got out and flooded the bathroom which got my clothes all wet. I looked for a hairdryer but you didn’t have one so I thought if I found a fan it might dry my clothes quicker.”

Your legs bump into the edge of the bed and you sat down, placing your head in your hands.

“Gods, could this day get any more embarrassing? First showing up to work in my work out gear, you catching me playing a broom, I tripped up the steps coming in here and now I am sitting on your bed in a towel because I forgot to close the freaking shower curtain.”

While you were venting about your day, Ben had moved over his dresser and pulled open a drawer. You could hear him rummaging around before the drawer slid shut. You turned your head to find him standing in front of you, holding out a grey t-shirt and a black pair of sweatpants. His cupid bow lips were curled into a sympathetic smile.

“Ben! You don’t have to do this.” You said, taking the clothes gratefully from him.

“I can hardly have you run around the set in your skin.” He smiled before twisting his face into one of horror, his voice mimicking that of an old lady’s. “Think of the scandal.”

“It wouldn’t be that much of a scandal. Lara will be filming on set completely nude. I doubt I would even raise an eyebrow.” You joked. Ben raised an eyebrow in response. You laughed, a faint blush rising in your cheeks. Standing, you move towards the door on your way to change in the bathroom.

“I think you might raise more than a few eyebrows my dear.” He said with a small chuckle. You froze and turned back to study his face. His blue-green eyes were glinting with humour but you could see that unidentifiable emotion you saw this morning growing in them. You wanted to cross the room and melt into his embrace but something held you in place. Ben seemed to be fighting internally with something, his hands clenching and unclenching. Making up his mind with a small nod, he took a small step towards you and then another. Ben stopped in front of you; his gaze was intense; mesmerizing. Your breath caught in your throat and your heart began to race.

“__________. I..um..” Ben began but he was interrupted when his phone chimed. Crestfallen, Ben sighed and pulled out his phone. “It’s Martin. They need me, us, both of us on set.”

“Right. I’ll just go get dressed.” You said, taking a deep breath. “Um.. Thanks for these.” You added holding up the clothes. You turned quickly and mentally counted your steps to the bathroom. Once the door was shut, you leaned against it, feeling dizzy.

_What the hell was that?_ You couldn’t deny your growing feelings towards the British actor but deep down you knew that a relationship with **the** Benedict Cumberbatch was wishful thinking. As a voice of logic, your head argued that he was talented, well educated and dangerously attractive. Not to mention almost ten years your senior. You couldn’t be more different. Your heart argued that none of those things mattered, if you were meant to be together, the universe had a way to make it happen. With all those feelings swirling inside you, you straightened and got dressed.

When you came out of the bathroom, Ben was sitting on the couch looking calm and collected, displaying none of the internal struggle you had saw earlier. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps.

‘Well, what do you think?” You said, doing a small twirl. “Pink Floyd is not really my style but I can begrudgely admit that they have one or two good song. “

Ben laughed, “You’ll do although I am slightly offended about your last comment. Pink Floyd was one of the best bands of their time.”

You roll you eyes as Ben stood up and opened the door. “After you.” He said, bowing slightly.

“Always a gentlemen.” You said as you passed him.

“I do try.” He murmured before following you out. “But sometimes I get the overwhelming desire to do something like this…” He said as he made a grab at you. You laugh as you dance out of his reach. Neither of you noticed the camera pointed in your direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, Life got in the way. Enjoy and please leave a comment about what you think. :)


	5. An Unworthy Opponent

After making a quick stop at the make-up trailer to grab your cosmetic utility belt, you and Ben arrive to find Lara and Martin sitting in the living of 221B, engaged in an animated discussion about the Halloween party that was swiftly approaching.

“Have you decided what you are going to be Martin? I heard last year’s costume was a big hit.” Lara said, leaning forward in her chair. She was dressed in a light blue button-down shirt and hardly anything else.

“It will be hard to top the costume from last year.” Martin said, “But Amanda and I have something planned that will put it to shame.”

“A little bird told me that you stole the original costume from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” Lara’s perfectly manicured eyebrow arched over a bright blue eye. Martin leaned forward with a serious look on his face but his eyes gleamed.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, especially rumours. They are filled with lies and hearsay.” He said, pausing for a moment, “I merely borrowed the costume and haven’t had the time to return it.” Lara let out a tinkling laugh, throwing her head back.

“Is that the bathrobe that you have been walking around the set in Martin?” You asked, stepping onto the set and interrupting the conversation. Martin gave you a sly smile and simply said, ‘I’ll take that secret to the grave.”

Lara immediately stopped laughing and turned a cool gaze on you. You watched as her eyes travelled from your face to your clothes, taking in the wet hair pulled into a messy bun, the Pink Floyd t-shirt and the sweatpants. She gave you a predatory grin, showing her teeth before shifting to study Ben’s handsome figure. Lara had obviously dismissed you as a person of no great importance. You gritted your teeth but forced a smile onto your lips.

“And you might be dear?” she inquired, politely, returning her blue eyes to you.

“I’m…” You started but were interrupted by Ben as he put a warm hand on your shoulder. He was close enough that you could feel his body heat emanating away from him. You resisted the urge to lean back and put your head on his broad shoulder.

“This is _________, the magnificent make-up artist I was telling you about.” He said with a smile, his voice injected with pride. Lara offered you a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “She is the rising star of our make-up department and has a knack for making things go smoothly.” You grumbled some sort of thank you before shrugging your shoulders.

“______, this is Lara Pulver, who is playing Irene Alder.” You widened your smile and held out your hand.

“Charmed.” She said as she eyed your hand but didn’t take it. Instead she turned back to Martin and you slowly return your hand to your side. Ben gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“She takes a little time to get use to.” Ben whispered before removing his hand and turning his attention to Lara. You take a deep breath and tackle the anger stirring in you. Lara had weighed and measured you and determined that she would not have any trouble making you submit to her whims.

 _She doesn’t know who she’s up against._ Your anger said.

 _Perhaps Lara was in character, putting on Irene Alder’s cool and calculating airs as practice._ You thought, trying to make the best of the situation.

 _Or perhaps she is just a bitch._ Your anger replied.

“Ben,” Lara began in a sickeningly sweet voice. You fought your urge to gag. “Martin and I were just talking about the Halloween party next week and Martin tells me that he has a costume that will eclipse all costumes.”

Ben scoffed “Of course, he would say something like that. Which children’s costume are you going to wear this year Martin?”

Martin slouched in his couch, the very picture of a pouting child. “You think you are so clever. Well then, tell us what you are going to be Cumberbatch. Go on.”

“The Phantom.” Ben said in a dramatic voice. “Louise is going as Christine and together we will be the dynamic duo from Gaston Leroux’s, The Phantom of the Opera.” He spread his arms wide. Lara clapped while you rolled your eyes. Ben launched into the main song from the play.

“Easy there tiger.” You interjected. “You need to save those vocal chords for the party.”

Martin laughed and mouthed thank you to you as Ben stopped singing. Lara watched this exchange with hooded eyes.

“Well, I thought it was marvellous darling.” She said, putting her hand on Ben’s arm and letting it linger longer than appropriate. Ben looked down at the hand before turning those blue-green eyes on Lara. You bristled at the gesture and felt your hand curl into a fist. Martin gave a polite cough before laying a hand on your arm.

“What are you being for Halloween darling?” He said in a sugary sweet voice, his face twisted into a look of flirtatiousness. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Lara snatch her hand from Ben’s arm but you kept your eyes trained on Martin, attempting to keep a straight face.

“Since you asked love, I am going to be…”

“Sorry to interrupt your little farce but we need to resume filming.” Steven said, stepping up from the shadows. “______, please touch up Lara’s make-up. Ben and Martin, I would like to speak to you about the next scene.”

The two men followed Steven to where Mark sat, watching a computer screen as you moved closer to Lara and study the make-up on her face. Rummaging through a pocket on your belt, you pulled out a piece of blotting paper and dab at Lara’s face to remove the oil gathering there.

“You are aware that you won’t win him over dear.” Lara whispered.

“And you think you can?” You asked politely as you pulled out the spray to reset her make-up.

“Certainly.” She showed her teeth in some semblance of a smile. “I always get what I want.”

“Look, Lara.” You spat out her name, “I have been working with Ben for almost two years now. I have watched him date floozies like you and by observation; I have found that those relationships never last longer than a month. Sure he is excited to have sex, I have never met a man who wasn’t but he will grow tired of hopping into bed with a woman who doesn’t have a brain.” You finished in almost a hiss. Lara arched an eyebrow at you before speaking again, her face perfectly composed.

“At least I can get him in bed.” She sneered.

“Be my guest and try but don’t look for sympathy around here when he moves on, leaving you sitting on the rubbish heap.” You replied. “Close your eyes and mouth.” You added quickly. Without giving Lara time to respond, you spray her face and step away, leaving her coughing and sputtering as you storm off the set. You saw the curious look in Ben’s eyes as you stalked past him, muttering under your breath.

You reached the make-up trailer in record time and flung the door open. After switching on the lights, you began pacing the floor, giving a release to your pent up anger.

_Who does she think she is? Thinking that she even deserves to be with a person like Ben. Ben is such a kind, caring and goofy individual and now he was being stalked as if he was some type of prey._

As you paced, you recalled some lines from a movie you had watched when you were younger. A poor and uncultured man had entered into a relationship with kind but very wealthy girl. The mother disapproved of the relationship and she had used this speech to scare him away.

“Where you come from zebras may marry zebras and leopards may marry leopards. Stripes with stripes and spots with spots. Well she is a stripe and you are a spot. One that which I intend to have removed as soon as possible.”

_Lara was implying that Ben was stripe and you were a spot. That may be true but Lara, my girl, you are a leech. One that **I** intend to have removed as soon as possible. No one takes advantage of my friends. No one._

With that final thought, you throw the door back open and head back to the set, intent on keeping an eye on Lara and her antics. You arrived to watch Sherlock be presented with a code that he needed to solve. As always, Ben was spot on with his lines, delivering them in the typical arrogant voice that befits Sherlock. Having solved the code in less than fifteen seconds, Sherlock stated his solution to Irene. Lara leaned in a delivered her line, one that left you reeling.

“I would have you right here on this desk until you begging for mercy twice.” Her look was intense and alluring. The sexual tension was beginning to build as neither actor took their gaze from the other’s face. Ben appeared to have momentarily forgotten his line before taking a deep breath and addressing Martin.

That line was not in the script unless that was the reason Steven had pulled Martin and Ben aside before the shoot. The script had been known to change frequently and without warning as Mark and Steven made tweaks and improvements where they saw fit. You glanced to the side to see Steven nodding, a small smile on his face. Mark leaned over to whisper in Steven’s ear, probably congratulating him on the new line. The scene ended and the bell sounded, letting the production crew know it was time for a break. You hung back and watched as the crew began filtering out, heading towards the cafeteria. Ben was congratulating Lara on the deliverance of her line and how it added to Irene’s character. Lara linked arms with Ben and together they walked off the set, chatting about their newest projects. You watched their retreating backs and saw Lara throw you a triumphant smile before turning back to their conversation. Childishly, you scrunch up your face and mimic her.

“I’m Lara. I will win because I have no problem display my goodies for everyone to see.” You whispered in a mock British accent.

“Well that was something.” You jumped and turned around guiltily to find Martin standing behind you.

“Are you referring to me or the scene?” You asked, hoping that Martin didn’t just observe your display.

“Your accent. It was terrible. Have you been walking around the docks again?” He said with a knowing smile.

“I find the water peaceful.” You mumbled.

“Along with the horrid smells, the potty mouth sailors and the rats. Certainly sounds like a spot I would like to relax in.” Martin shot back, laying the sarcasm on thick. In that moment, your stomach decided to unleash a gurgle that was loud enough it echoed in the empty set. Martin’s eyes widen and he looked at your stomach before raising his eyes to your face.

“Really?” He asked loudly, throwing his hands in the air.

“I got busy okay? Between running around, getting you ready, cleaning up the mess that Corian made, showering and having to touch up the queen’s make-up, I hadn’t really got the time.” You defended yourself. “Surely, you can see that?”

Martin’s face told you that you weren’t going to win this battle. “Lunch. Now.”

“Bloody hobbit.” You mutter for the second time today as Martin fell in step beside you.

“I may be short but I am not deaf.” He growled and together you exited the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a little extra time this week so here's the next chapter. Please leave a comment, I always love reading them.


	6. Lunch

After a short walk, you enter the cafeteria. Tables, both round and rectangular stood haphazardly around the room with worn, plastic chairs tucked around them. The walls were covered with promotional posters of Sherlock, Doctor Who and the newest pilot, The Paradise. A pair of sound technicians waved to you and you returned the gesture with a smile. This room always had people in it; actors studying their lines, filming crews holding last minute meetings, producers conversing over a coffee and of course people who wanted to eat.

Martin stopped to study the lunch specials as you studied the lines of people. The longest line appeared to be coming from the pasta station and judging by the impatient faces, it was moving slowly. Salad station held a fairly long line too.

 _People and their healthy food._ You thought, shaking your head.

You spotted Lara and Ben standing in line. Ben made a joke and Lara tilted her head back with a laugh. She put a hand on Ben's arm and left it there. You grimaced and turn your attention to Martin. 

“Pasta Stir-fry, Make-Your-Own Salad, or Chicken Caesar Wraps. What ever happened to plain, plain old fish and chips.” He mused. You laughed and pointed to a small counter with a couple people at it.

“You just need to know where to look, my short friend.” Leading Martin through the crowd, you reached the fast-food counter in record time. You take a tray before handing one to Martin.

“Don’t you normally have a bagged lunch with you?” You asked studying the menu. Martin shook his head.

“This morning was train wreck. Little Gracie made sick in her bed this morning, we couldn’t find Joe’s library book, which was due today and Amanda got a phone call, asking her to come in for a reading at nine. I had to clean up vomit with a crying toddler all the while trying not to vomit myself.” He paused for a moment, swallowing hard. “All I can say is that I made it to work, more or less intact.”

“Sounds like my morning.” You said.

“Did you have to clean up sick this morning?” He asked, fixing you with an expectant stare.

“No.” You replied as Martin opened his mouth, “But I had to…” You were interrupted by a cheerful greeting.

“Good morning, my bonnie lass. What’ll it be today?” A grey haired man standing behind the sneeze shield said with a wink. His greying hair was tucked neatly under a hair net whose edge sat above on thick, black eyebrows.

“You’re awfully chipper this morning Wynn.” You commented with a small smile on your lips. You set an orange tray on the railing in front of him. “I will have my usual please.” Wynn had worked here longer than anyone could remember, serving food with a smile.

“And for you, Mr. Freeman?” He asked before placing a frozen hamburger patty on the grill.

“Have we met?” Martin asked politely.

“Not to my knowledge Mr. Freeman but it’s not hard to recognize the man who looks so solemnly at me every day.” He pointed to the poster across from his station. You turn to indeed find a poster of John Watson staring sternly back at you. With a laugh and an apology, Martin placed his order before Wynn picked up the conversation where he had left off.

“Just found out that I have a grandbaby. A wee bairn named Cassandra.” He replied, his smile widened, his grey eyes sparkled with pride and excitement. He was originally from Scotland but moved to England in hopes to become a chef. After years of failed business ventures and being spurned by colleagues, he had found his way into the BBC’s cafeteria and never left.

“Congratulations! You will make a wonderful grandfather.” You said enthusiastically him. “Is she your first?”

“Och no, I have four more grandbabies back in Scotland. They are all happy and wrecking havoc on their parents lives.” He lowered a basket of onion rings into the deep fryer. “What are ya doing here? Aren’t ya suppose to be home, tending that garden of yours?”

You shrug, “I was supposed to be but Paula is sick with the flu so Corian decided that she was going to improvise. Needless to say, I got called in to do damage control.”

“None of the other lasses could cover for ya?” He asked as he created a bacon cheeseburger. Your stomach growled in anticipation.

Again, you shrugged, “I guess not.”

“Well lassie, they obviously only wanted the best.” He handed the plate to you with a large grin. You couldn’t help but return the smile. Wynn had become a surrogate grandparent, offering wise advice, sympathizing with you and keeping your spirits up.

“Thanks Wynn.” You flashed him a brilliant smile and went to pay for your food, Martin right on your heels. You scan the large room for an empty table and finally spotted one in the far corner. It had five chairs and space for a couple more; people tended to flock to wherever Martin and Ben sat.

“There’s one Martin. That squareish one in the corner.” You pointed at it. “We better move quickly or the camera crew is going to take it.”

“Oh good lord,” You heard Martin mutter as he followed behind you. “It appears that the education system is failing today’s youth.” You reached the table and set your tray down. Martin sat opposite you before saying slowly, “This is called a rectangle. See how the sides are not the same length.”

You popped an onion ring in your mouth and started to chew. “Some days Martin, I would like to slap the sass right out of you but I refrain because then there would be no point in hanging out with you anymore.”

“Hey! I take offence to that. I am a very loveable person. I just can’t control what comes out of my mouth. Or what my body does.” He exclaimed. You nodded and rolled your eyes. “Hey!”

“What?” You asked, preparing to take a bite of your burger.

“Don’t you sass me. I practically invented the eye roll. ” He said as you rolled your eyes again. A tall figure caught your eye and you saw that Ben and Lara were moving in your direction.

“Martin, come sit beside me.”

“Now why would I want to do that?” He glanced in the direction you were looking and shook his head.

“Please?” You said sweetly. Martin picked up his tray and made to get up before setting the tray down with a small thud.

“No.” He said giving you a pointed look with one of his eyebrows arched.

“Come on! I don’t want to sit beside Lara.” You hissed as they drew nearer to the table.

“What makes you think Lara wants to sit beside you?’ He shot back, clearly enjoy the situation. You were about to reply when Ben set his tray in the corner seat beside you leaving Lara looking slightly dour as she sat down beside Martin. Martin shot you a victorious smile as he picked up a chip.

“What were you two talking about?” Ben inquired as he picked up his fork.

“Oh nothing. Nothing at all.” You said, taking a sip of your drink.

“Actually, “Martin said, pointing at you with his chip earning him a warning glance in return, “_______ was just telling me about her great dislike of sitting still for a long period of time.” You let out your breath as he finished his sentence. There would be some harsh words in Mr. Freeman's near future.

“Oh really?” Ben asked around a mouthful of his food. “So what do you do instead?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I will sit as long as I am interested in something like a book or a film but put me in a lecture hall and I will be daydreaming before the prof even starts talking. I just need to keep moving. I garden and run but mostly run.” You said, scrambling to find the words.

“I would have to run too after eating all that junk food.” Lara said, politely. ‘Fortunately, I don’t get the urge to eat onion rings and hamburgers.” She offered the table a large smile as Ben and Martin chuckled.

“I run because I like to eat. There is so many wonderful foods out there why spend your life eating leaves?” You asked, looking at Lara’s scant salad.

“Hear, hear.” Martin said, raising his fork in agreement.

“Speaking of delicious foods,” Ben spoke up. “I was wondering if you would join me for dinner and dancing tomorrow night. There that new restaurant opening and they have invited me to attend.”

“If Amanda and I can arrange for a sitter, we will be there. I don’t think we have been out on a date together since Grace was born.” Martin replied.

“I would love to come, Benedict.” Lara said with a cat-like grin on her face. “I look forward to getting to you and the rest of my new colleagues.”

“What about you, ______?” Ben asked, turning his blue-green eyes on you. You felt your cheeks warm. You thought about the cozy night you had planned for yourself; Netflix, a bowl of homemade macaroni and your bed.

“I kind of had a date with the Winchester brothers tomorrow night.” You said. The smile began to fade from Ben’s as Lara snickered. Pain shot through your shin; Martin had kicked you under the table. “But I am sure they will be understanding if I postponed it. I would love to come Ben.” You said, offering him a shy smile.

“Grand!” He said, his face lighting up. “Let’s meet up around 7, shall we?” Everyone nodded in agreement as Louise appeared at your table.

“’Ello everyone. May I join you?” She dropped into the seat at the head of the table. You had a lot of respect for Louise. Her character, Molly Hooper, was only meant to appear for an episode but Louise had done such a brilliant job, viewers had demanded that she remain on the show. Her portrayal of the awkward pathologist and her obvious crush on Sherlock resounded with every fangirl who had watched the original pilot.

“So who’s all hot and bothered about our Halloween party next week?” She asked before taking a large bite of her sandwich. “I know I am.”

“I hope you’re ready for some competition. Amanda and I are going to wipe the floor with Ben and yourself.” Martin said with a playful glint in his eye.

“You’re going to what with Louise?” A voice said jokingly behind you.

“We’re going to clean the floor with them Rupert.” Martin repeated with a grin, “You too.” Rupert laughed as he pulled up a chair beside you. You slid closer to Ben to give Rupert some more room. Almost immediately, you became aware that Ben’s leg was resting against yours.

 _Keep your cool. He just a normal guy that I just happen to have a ridiculously, immense crush on. Remember to breath. Normally_. You added as your breath came in shallow waves. With a rising blush, you turned your attention back to the conversation.

“Not a chance, Martin. I have a secret weapon up my sleeve that will blow your knickers off.” Louise gave you a devious smile which you returned; glad to turn you attention away from the man sitting very close to you. Martin stared at you with his mouth open.

“You? " He pointed to you, "Are going to help her?” He asked, pointing at Louise,  his eyes wide with disbelief. You gave him a small nod. “You were suppose to remain a neutral party. How many times do I have to tell you that you can only use your powers for good? Now I find out that you are helping the enemy?”

“Here we go.” Ben said from his corner with a small chuckle. He looked sympathetically at Lara, “This will probably go on for some time. Martin can get pretty competitive.” She gave him an understanding smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Martin continued on this line for a good minute before pausing for a breath.

“Mr. Freeman, I do believe that you and your wife are pencilled into my schedule after Louise at your request so you and I quote, ‘know exactly how the competition looks and take it to the next level.’”

“I highly doubt that any of you are going to beat my costume.” Rupert piped up.

“Everything beat the Father Time one you wore last year. Every one thought you were the Sandman.” Martin shot back. You checked your watch and shot out of your chair.

“Speaking of time, Ben and Martin, you need to get to make-up and Lara needs to see the costuming department.” You said quickly as you started to gather up the trays. No one moved, continuing on with their conversation.

“Do I need to say, Sherlock Cast disassemble? Let’s go people.” You interrupted the laughter.

“Yes Captain, my Captain.” Martin said as he saluted you.

“Shut it Martin and get moving.” You growled. With parting words, the cast left the table in a disarray of dishes. You muttered to yourself as you stacked the dishes onto one tray and garbage on the other. As you turned, you ran in Ben who had stayed behind to help you. The cutlery flew in every direction, clattering as it hit the floor.

“Ben, I am so sorry. I thought you left with the others.” You said, bending down to retrieve the fallen utensils.

“It wouldn’t be very nice to have you clean up the table by yourself. Plus you are needed in the make-up department.” He said, reaching for a knife under the table. His hand brushed against yours as you both reached for the same spoon. A tingle ran up your arm.

“Sorry.” You mumbled as a blush rose in your cheeks. You looked up to find those stunning blue-green eyes on you. For a moment, time froze with Ben holding on end of the spoon and you holding the other. The sound of a dish shattering in the kitchen broke the staring contest.

“Um.” You cleared your throat and let go of the spoon. Ben set the spoon on the tray and picked it up off the ground.

“_________,” He started.

“Are you two coming?” Martin voiced rang across the cafeteria.

“We better get moving.” You said, taking the tray of garbage off the table. “Otherwise…”

“Otherwise crude comments are going to fly.” Ben finished with a grin on his face.

“Exacty.” You replied with a smile. After emptying the trays, you started heading towards the door.  You reached in you pocket to check your phone but your hand came closed on nothing. “I forgot my phone at the table. You go on ahead. I won’t be too long.” You said, turning back.

Ben sighed and walked over to Martin.

“How did it go mate? Did you ask her?” Martin asked earnestly.

“Every time I get a chance, my tongue gets tied and nothing comes out.” Ben replied, running his hand through his hair. He watched as you deftly manoeuvred around the tables.

“She’s surprisingly coordinated when you’re not around.” Martin jokingly commented. At the look on his friend’s face, Martin clapped a hand on Ben’s back “Don’t worry mate. When the time is right, the words will come.”

Ben gave him a small, unsure smile. “I do hope you’re right.”

You reached the pair and gave them both a large grin. “Are we ready to get going?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you enjoy this next chapter. I will be needing your help. I haven't been able to decide what costume the Reader should wear to the Halloween party. I would appreciate your input and your feedback.


	7. A Motorcycle Isn't Scary Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was really hard to wirte this chapter because the first snowfall happened this week and has put me in the Christmas mood. I had to resist the urge to skip over Halloween and the next month and jump right to Christmas but I will patient.

Finally, filming was done for the day and you headed back to the make-up trailer to put away your utility belt and give your station one final clean-up. Your phone chimed and you looked at it as you opened the door. It was Paula apologizing profusely for delaying your vacation.

‘No worries my dear. You would do the same for me. :)’ You text with one hand and reached for the light switch with the other.

‘I will be back tomorrow. I promise.’ Came Paua's reply.

You looked up for a moment and let out a small gasp, dropping your phone. It clattered to the floor and you silently cursed yourself as you picked it. Straightening, you shot a look at the girl in your make-up chair. She was rather petite, looking more like a child rather than a young adult. Her mousy, brown hair hung soft waves framing her round face. She had brilliant blue eyes, ones that reminded you of a clear summer sky. She looked like the perfect picture of an innocent child with the exception of a metal stud sticking out of her bottom lip.

“Gods Corian! You scared the living daylights out of me!” You exclaimed as you unbuckled the utility belt.

“Sorry _________.” She offered you an apologetic smile, widening her blue eyes.

“Where have you been all day? I could have used some help.” You asked, setting the belt on the counter. You didn’t trust Corian enough to pull your make-up case out of its hiding place. Instead, you began to wash out your brushes, keeping an eye on the intern in the mirror.

Corian looked down at her phone and shrugged, “I was helping Geordie out with some of the camera stuff.” She began tapping on her screen.

“You do realize that you came here to learn the art of cosmetology right? Your professor won’t be happy to hear about the stunt you pulled this morning and that you didn’t stick around to correct it.” You said as Corian’s eyes flew to your face.

“Oh please don’t e-mail my teacher. I am really sorry about this morning! I thought I could do it and when I messed up, I was so embarrassed that I left.” Her eyes began to water and you took pity on her. You knew what it was like to be embarrassed about mistakes and you had made plenty of them in your first year at BBC.

“Corian, don’t cry. It’s okay to make mistakes but you need to take the initiative to fix them. People won’t always be willing to fix them for you.” You said quietly, moving to place a hand on her shoulder. Corian shifted as she tucked her phone underneath her leg. She looked up at you with a watery smile.

“So you’re not going to tell my professor?” She sniffed. When you shook your head, a wide grin spread across her face. “Oh thank you!”

“You should probably apologize to Benedict though.” You said, resuming your cleaning.

“Was he upset?” She asked, pulling out her phone again.

Again you shook your head, “I think he was a little confused about how he ended up looking like that.” A smile danced on your face as you remembered the events of the morning.

“Well that’s good.” Corian answered. “How do you like Lara? She seems a little catty to me.”

“Lara might be a very nice person,” You stopped, thinking of the best way to put it, “Let’s just say we don’t really see eye to eye about certain topics.”

“Topics like Ben?” She pushed further, leaning forward in her chair. Your face reddened and you turned away from the mirror in attempt to hide it from her. “You and Ben seem really close. Are you just friends or is there something more there?”

You turned to face her, wiping your hands on a towel. “I honestly don’t know.” You answered with a sigh. “Sometimes he seems on the verge of saying something and then it’s back to the same old, goofball Ben.”

“Would you like there to be something more between you?” Corian asked, ignoring the fact that her phone chimed.

You folded your arms across your chest and studied her for a moment. She looked back at you with an earnest face. She seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. You opened your mouth before closing it again. Your instinct told you not to trust the intern, no matter how innocent Corian looked while your trusting nature said to give her a chance.

Finally you replied with a grin, “I would count myself among the thousands of women who wished they were in a relationship with Benedict Cumberbatch.”

The door opened and Ben walked in, a large grin on his face. He froze in mid-step as he took in the scene before him. The intern looked like she has been crying, her nose red and blotchy and you leaning against the counter with your arms folded across your chest.

“Er… Is this a bad time?” He asked, his smile fading.

“Not at all.” You replied, “Corian was just leaving but first she has something to say to you.”

Corian quickly stood up from the chair and stood in front of Ben. He seemed to tower over her small frame.

“I am extremely sorry Mr. Cumberbatch if I caused any distress this morning.” She smiled, creating dimples in cheeks.

“No harm, no foul.” Ben replied, blinking at the intern’s wide smile. “It gave us quite a good laugh this morning. I do believe Martin particularly enjoyed it.” Ben’s smile returned, wrinkles forming around his eyes. The little intern seemed stunned for a moment before stammering out another apology and headed out the door.

You waited for the door to shut before letting out a sigh of relief “Thank the Lord, you showed up. It was like the Inquisition in here.” You reached down and pulled your make-up case from its hiding spot and opened it up. “She’s a nosy one though I believe you stunned her with that grin of yours.” You heard Ben chuckle as he took his customary place in your chair. You handed him some wipes to remove the make-up before returning to the task at hand.

“Seemed like today went pretty well considering the rough start it got off to.” You commented as an air of awkwardness descending in the room.

“Mmm… it did go fairly well but only because a delightful, little make-up artist saved the day.” He said, his eyes sparkling. You felt your face grow warm and you cleared your throat.

“It wasn’t a problem.” You mumbled, unable to meet his eyes.

The door opened and Martin stuck his head in. “Oh good. Everyone’s got their trousers on.” Your eyes widened in shock and Ben started to cough. Martin grinned, “___________, I won’t be able to give you a lift tonight. I just got an e-mail from Peter Jackson and they need me to do a conference call in about twenty minutes.”

“I… umm..” You stammered trying to recover from the shock of Martin’s first statement.

 _There will be hell to pay._ You thought.

“Not a problem Martin. I should have enough in my pocket for a cab ride home.” You went to reach in your pocket before realizing that you were wearing Ben’s sweatpants. “Or I can walk. It’s not that far from my house.”

“It’s over thirty blocks from here.” Martin exclaimed. “I can pay for the cab or perhaps someone else in this room could give you a ride home.” He looked pointedly at Ben. Ben’s eyes widened and he stood up from the chair, his face still red from his coughing fit.

“________, I could give you a lift home.” You looked back at Martin who quickly tried to cover the smirk on his face.

“Are you sure?” You asked, “I don’t want to inconvenience you in any way.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Ben murmured.

You reached the parking lot and looked around. There were still several cars there including Martin’s, which you considered denting a door panel for a moment, along with a couple of motorcycles. You followed Ben down the line of cars, praying that he had brought his car.

_Not the bike, not the bike, not the bike._

Ben stopped in front of a motorcycle.

_Damn. He brought the bike._

“Here it is.” He said his voice full of pride. It was a beautiful piece of machinery; chrome pipes, a deep red colour and plush leather seat big enough to fit the driver and his passenger. You stopped where you were, eyeing the bike nervously. You weren’t afraid of many things but a heavy two wheeled vehicle that lacked all safety precautions of a car and relied greatly on the balance of the riders, scared you. Ben seemed to sense your hesitation and he turned to face you, a helmet in his hand.

“_______,” He asked, “Are you alright?”

You nodded before shaking your head. “Nope, I’m not okay.” You fell silent, staring at the bike, trying to work out the consequences for getting on the bike.

“A quid for your thoughts.” Ben said quietly, setting the helmet on the bike. You gave yourself a small shake.

“If I get on that thing, do you promise that I won’t die?” You asked in an attempt to make a joke.

“I promise that you __(f/n)______ ____(l/n)_____, will reach your house in the same condition you’re in before getting on the bike.” He replied, raising three fingers in imitation of your Girl Guide salute. You raised your eyebrow at him. “I take these very seriously.” He added, earning a laugh from you.

“Okay.” You said, taking the helmet from Ben with trembling hands. You placed the helmet on your head and carefully did up the buckle.

 _This is no different than riding an ATV._ You tried to convince yourself as you watched Ben straddle the bike and turn it on. _It’s going to sound just like ATV and its quiet purr._ The machine roared into life, causing you to jump.

 _I am so going to die._ You thought before taking the hand that Ben offered you and climbing onto the bike.

“There are handle grips on either side of your seat. Do you see them?” He asked, turning slightly to see your face. You shifted to side to see the grips resting just below your thighs. You nodded, placing your hands on them.

“The foot rests are just below those.” Ben pointed to the bars that you probably wouldn’t have noticed on your own.

“Ready?” Ben asked as you finished settling. You nodded before realizing that he couldn’t see that.

“Let’s just get this over with.” You said, causing Ben to laugh. Ben revved the engine and walked the bike forward a bit. “Wait!” You cried, “Where’s your helmet?”

“I have a spare helmet at the gate, just in case.” He smiled.

“Some how I think you and Martin planned this.” You muttered as you flipped your visor down. You didn’t think Ben had heard you but his ears lifted as he smiled. He put the bike in gear and crept through the parking lot, giving you time to get used to the feeling of the machine underneath you. Upon reaching the gate, Ben stopped and had a few words with the attendant. The helmet muffled much of the conversation but you could tell Ben was joking around by the way his eyes sparkled. The attendant passed Ben his helmet and Ben took a moment to secure it on his head.

“Here we go.” Ben’s voice came through your helmet, startling you. “Sorry ______. I should have warned you. Ready?”

“Yup.” Was all you said as you tightened your grip on the handle bars turning your knuckles white. The gate lifted and the bike eased forward.

 _This not too bad._ You thought until the bike reached the end of the laneway. You watched the cars dart past you, praying that there would be a break big enough to slowly enter traffic. You felt the vibrations increase as Ben sped the motor up and launched bike into traffic. You tried to scream but it came out in a quiet squeak as a car approached quickly from your right side. The bike turned into the left lane and the car flew past you, moving smoothly to the middle lane.

“Sorry my dear but I didn’t see another opening.” Ben’s voice rumbled through your helmet.

“N-n-o worries.” You said as your teeth chattered. The ride wasn’t so bad when the bike was on a straight road. The turns and curves still threw you but you quickly picked up on the balance of the machine. While you were anticipating the up-coming curve, the light turned red and Ben slammed on the brakes, causing the bike to slide forward. Your helmet banged into Ben’s and you slid forward on the seatt. Silently cursing yourself, you adjusted you position.

“Sorry, Ben.” You said, resting your hands on your lap.

“Nothing to be sorry about darling. This light and I have a history.” He said; you could hear the light tone in his voice.

“Is where you had your accident?” You asked looking at the surrounding buildings.

“Yes. A truck came sliding through the intersection. I applied the brakes but the road was slick with rain and my bike continued into the intersection. I threw myself off the bike and watched as the truck slammed into my bike. Luckily no one was hurt minus the bumps and scrapes I got.” He replied, putting the bike back in gear and pushing off. You realized that you weren’t holding onto anything and grabbed the only solid thing in your reach. You wrapped your hands around Ben’s waist and held on tightly.

“Everything okay?” He asked and you thought you could hear a smile in his voice.

“Just peachy.” You replied through gritted teeth. As much as you wanted to enjoy the fact that you had your arms around Ben’s waist, your mind wouldn’t let you.

 _This totally unprofessional. You work with this man and it’s bad enough that you have dreams about him, now you are leaning up against him._ Your brain argued

 _It’s that or die._ You replied. You brain fell silent and you began to finally enjoy the bike ride.

The bike began to slow and you looked up to the familiar houses of your neighbours.

“Ben?” You asked slowly, “How do you where I live?”

“A little hobbit told me.” He replied as he pulled the bike up to the curb.

 _Martin._ You mentally face palmed. _Of course._

You removed your helmet and clambered off the bike as Ben shut it off. “Thanks for the ride home Ben.”

“Did I not promise that you would make it home in the same state that you left the parking lot in?”

_I don’t think I am in the same state I left that parking lot in. Adrenaline spike, elevated heart rate, clammy hands, flushed cheeks, an aching need to…_

“And you, sir, have done just that.” You smiled. “Here’s your helmet back.” You held the helmet out to him.

“Would you be able to keep it? I don’t have a spot to secure it on the bike.” Ben asked, gesturing to the bike.

“Of course.” You replied, taking a step back from the bike. “Have a lovely night Ben.” You turned and started up the side walk when Ben called after you.

“Could I pick you up tomorrow? Around 6:30?” He asked anxiously. It took you a moment to figure out that that you had agreed to go to dinner with him, and Martin, and Amanda, and Lara.

“As long as you promise to bring a vehicle that has seat belts, four doors and windows that aren’t an inch from my face.” You said, motioning to helmet’s visor.

“Deal.” He replied, a smile lighting his long face. You melted a little inside. The bike roared back into life and you waved as Ben disappeared down the street. You did a little twirl, hugging the helmet to your chest.

_I’m going on a date with THE Benedict Cumberbatch!_

You quickly looked to see if anyone had watched your little display. There was no one around and you did one final skip before entering your house.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter and then it's the Halloween party. I am really excited for you to read it. As always, please a comment about what you thought of the story. I love to read them. 
> 
> Cheers


	8. A Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I started writing and it just kept going and going.

The next day passed quickly in a furry of chores; laundry, dishes, and preparing your rather large garden for the winter season. You laboured bringing in the pots of plants that wouldn’t be able survive the cold nor the ridiculous amount of rain that England saw during the winter season. There were rare cases when it snowed but they were few and far between. The previous winter, some of your rose bushes took damage from the weight of the sleet. This year, you put tomato cages and burlap around them to protect them from the elements. Your hydrangeas stood, flowerless, their fading beauty having been trimmed away.

 _Finally, I can rest knowing that my garden will survive until next year._ You thought as you sat in under an arbour supporting the branches of wisteria. Your hands were wrapped around a ceramic mug containing cooling tea. Piano music drifted through the open kitchen window and you took a deep breath, the scent of the damp earth and decaying leaves filled your nose. The sun’s rays reached your secluded alcove and warmed you while the breeze rustled the papers that sat on your lap. It was a letter from your mom inviting you home for Christmas.

Your thoughts drifted towards the place you had called home two years previous. The sunlight shining through the yellowing canopy as you raced your brothers to the pond. The nights you spent curled in the large window seat with a cup of hot cocoa and a book. Hour spent perched on a stool in the workshop while you watched your dad cut up some wood for his next project. Your mom yelling out the window as your brothers play fought with the rakes. Your mom yelling as you tunnelled under the snow, creating an epic fort. Hot tears welled up in your eyes and you wiped them away with the back of your hand. The last night you had spent at home was etched in your mind, filled with anger and guilt.

***********

You had been at the audition for a well known dance company and backstage was filled with at least a hundred of prospective girls. You studied your competition as they warmed up and stretched their limbs. Many of them were thinner than you as well prettier. You looked down at your black body suit and flimsy red skirt, bile rising in your throat. You swallowed hard, trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t any different than a dance recital. As you reached down to touch your toes, the paper pinned to the front of your outfit crinkled loudly, echoing in your ears.

The first group was called on stage and they performed the requested dance. The second group followed and then the third. Finally, your group was called and you took your assigned place among the ranks. The music began and you moved, your body flowing through the steps, your face fixed in a mournful smile. You were swept away in the music as it became a part of your being. Left and right, girls were beginning to falter and mix up their steps but you continued around the chaos, never missing a beat. The song ended and your group heading backstage to await the judges’ scores. After several heart-wrenching minutes, the judges began calling out names and those girls left, heads hanging dejectedly. They reached the end of the list and your name hadn’t been called. Your mom would be mildly that you made it to the second round.

The second round begins and you are given a male partner who already belonged to the company. You smiled shakily at the man standing beside you. He was about half a foot taller than you and well muscled. He had dark hair and dark, serious eyes. You wipe your hands on your outfit; they were sweating uncontrollably.

“Don’t be nervous. I saw you dancing out there. You’re at the top of their list.’ He leaned over and whispered, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Positions.” A stern voice called out and you turned to face your partner, placing a hand on his shoulder and grasping his hand with the other. You drew yourself up to your full height as his hand settled on your waist. The song began and you followed his steps with a practiced ease. The first lift went by flawlessly as well as the second. On the third lift, you could feel his arms begin to shake as he swung you into the air and over his head. Your hands slipped and he stepped back to compensate for the shift in your weight but it wasn’t enough. You fell, bringing your partner with you. He landed hard on your ankle, twisting it to the side. You felt a pop as the joint shifted under the force of his fall. He immediately rolled off you and stared at your swelling ankle with wide eyes. The music continued to play.

“Do you think it’s broken? Can you finish the song?” He asked as he crouched over your swelling ankle

You shook your head and tried to stand up but the small amount of pressure you exerted caused your head to spin. He stood up and held a hand out to you.

“Are you absolutely certain that you can’t finish the song?” He asked, his eyes telling you finish the song. You took a deep breath and took his outstretched hand, puling yourself into an upright position. You balanced precariously on your good foot as the other throbbed. The next step would involve you stepping to the right and onto your injury. You looked your partner in the eye and nodded. As one, you stepped to the right and that was the last thing you knew.

You had woken up to the voices of the paramedics on the ambulance ride to the hospital. You lay there with your eyes closed, recounting the events that led to the present. You sat through the x-ray and the doctor’s examination in silence, answering only when they asked you questions. Finally they wheeled you back into the waiting room and you saw your brother sitting there. You mom was angry.

“Hey pint-sized, how’s the ankle?” Michael said as he stood up. You gave him a sad look before returning it to your lap. The doctor quickly explained that you had a third degree sprain and it would be about two weeks before you could any weight in it and then you would have to be aided with crutches for several more

Once in the car, the only sound was the rock music on the radio.

“Mom’s mad, isn’t she?” You asked quietly, looking at your older brother’s face. He ran his hand through his curly brown hair and sighed.

“Mad is the understatement of the year.” He finally said, taking his eyes off the road to look at you.

“It wasn’t my fault.” You slid lower in your seat and turned to look out the window. The scenery flew by, each tree blending into the next. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes but you refused to shed them. You had no control over what had happened and you did make the attempt to finish your dance.

“I know _________. I know.” Came Michael’s reply. The medication the doctor had given you was starting to take effect and your eyelids drooped. You woke up as the truck came to a crunching stop on the gravel laneway. Michael shut the truck and moved to open his door. When he realized that you hadn’t moved, he turned to look at you.

“It’s only going to get worse, the longer you sit out here.”

“I know.” You mumbled, watching the front door with a feeling of dread. You reluctantly opened the door and slowly lowered yourself to the ground. Carefully balancing on your good foot, you waited for Michael to bring you the crutches from the back of the truck. After settling the crutches under your arms, you made your way up the sidewalk, moving at a snail’s pace. Michael followed behind closely, just in case you fell. Before you reached the steps, the front door was thrown open and your mother stood there, her hands on her hips and her face like a thundercloud. Her hazel eyes flashed with such rage that you froze in pace.

“You should have left her at the hospital.” Your mom said, talking to Michael. “Failures are not welcome in this house.”

“Mom, that’s hardly fair,” Michael replied as he stepped beside you. “________ did her best. She couldn’t stop the events that…” Your mother held up her hand, cutting off Michael’s defence. She stalked down the steps and stopped a foot in front of you.

“After all that time I spent driving you to competitions, recitals and classes. The studio we had installed for you. All the money I spent on extra classes…” She said angrily, jabbing a finger at you.

“It’s Dad’s money.” You finally spoke halting the tirade in its tracks.

“What was that?” She asked dangerously.

“You spent Dad’s money and Michael and Eric drove me to class most of the time. You haven’t done anything but criticize me and make me feel terrible.” You said defiantly.

“How dare you! You ungrateful and spoiled child! When I was your age, I was happy for the things my parents provided for me. I would have leapt at the opportunities that your father and I provided for you.” She took a step closer and your anger hit a boiling point.

“Opportunity!?” You scoffed, “You forced me into dance when I wanted to play hockey and continued to shove it down my throat no matter how many times I told you I didn’t like it.” Your mother’s face turned a dark shade of red as you continued. “I’m sorry that I can’t be the daughter that you have always wanted; a princess who loves pink bows, frilly lace and blonde curls. I will never be that girl. When are you going to accept that?”

   “You’re right!” Your mom threw her hands up in the air, “I wanted a daughter not another boy trapped in a girl’s body. You are a selfish, ugly girl who will go nowhere in life.” She shouted. You turned as quickly as your crutches allowed and moved back to the truck, fighting away tears. Your mom had finally confirmed the hidden resentment that you had felt over the past years.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She called after you.

“I am not living in a house with a mother who doesn’t accept and love me for who I am.” You yelled back as you threw open the door of the truck. You heard quick footsteps behind you and suddenly Michael’s hand was at your elbow, helping you into the truck.

You looked back one last time as the truck pulled out of the laneway only to find your mom storming back into the house.

***********

That had been almost six years ago and you still hadn’t forgiven her for those unkind words. One day your mom might be able to accept you the way you were but until then, going home was out of the question.

The sun was beginning to disappear from the horizon, throwing the sky into shades of red and orange and casting long shadows across the lawn. The sound of a doorbell reached your ears and you glanced at your watch; the display reading 6:15.

“Oh shit!” you muttered as you scrambled up from your seat, gathering up the letter and your tea cup and racing to the back door. You practically threw the cup and letter on the counter in the kitchen as the doorbell sounded again. You raced to the front door and wrenched it open, revealing a sharply dressed Ben about to ring the bell again. He was wearing the same outfit he had on the day you met; dark grey suit with a deep purple tie. His hair was slicked back from his face and combed neatly into place.

“Hi.” You breathed, leaning against the door as you attempted to catch your breath.

“Hello______, did I interrupt something?’ Ben asked, looking mildly alarmed at your appearance.

“Not at all,” You said, straightening, “I was out in the garden and lost all track of time. I apologize. Do you want to come?” You asked, stepping aside so he could enter your house. You were beginning to feel a little nervous, your hands were starting to sweat. Ben looked around the entrance hall before returning his gaze to you, a lopsided grin lighting his face.

“No need to apologize. I am a little early. Really I should be the one apologizing to you.” He said with sincerity. “Honestly, I thought about driving around the block but there was a young woman going for a walk and I didn’t want her to think I was some sort of stalker.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you decided to stalk me.” You clapped your hand over your mouth and looked at him with wide eyes. “I am sorry! That was… I didn’t mean to… Bloody hell.” You mumbled, beyond embarrassed.

 _Beautiful! I just said one of the creepiest things on the planet._ _He’s going to leave and never talk to me again. I will have to get a job transfer._

To your great surprise, Ben laughed, a deep and genuine sound.

“Good god!” He said, wiping tears from his face. “I thought I would be the one to say something really awkward.” He looked at your mortified face, “I am sorry. I don’t mean to laugh but it was definitely an ice breaker.” He tried to compose his face but Ben couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

“Yeah…” You began, hoping to salvage some of your dignity, “Would you like to sit down while I get ready?”

“That would lovely.” Ben replied, his blue-green eyes twinkling. You started down the hall and stopped suddenly as you remembered the laundry piled on the couches, causing Ben to walk into you.

“Sorry. Do you mind waiting here for just a moment?” You asked anxiously.

Ben looked confused for a moment but he nodded, “Of course.”

You flashed him a grateful smile and quickly entered the living room. You grabbed the nearest pile of laundry off the coffee table and threw it back into the basket. Soon all the clothes were gathered in the basket and you slid it behind the couch. With one final glance to make sure all your undergarments were hidden away, you returned to the man standing in the hallway.

“The coast is clear. The laundry monsters are gone.” You reported, gesturing him to follow you. You heard a chuckle from behind you.

“Laundry monsters?” He questioned.

“They usually lurk about a house, placing some of the more embarrassing clothing articles in plain sight when company comes over.” You explained, doing one more check before allowing him to enter the room. “Make yourself comfortable. If you want anything to drink or snack on while you wait, the kitchen is just down the hall. I think there is still some hot water in the kettle. Doctor Who is loaded on Netflix if you have desire to watch it.” You started to babble. Ben settled himself on the couch.

“Excellent. Doctor Who is near the top of my list of favourite TV programs.” Ben said, politely interrupting your ramble.

“Great,” You sighed with relief. “I shouldn’t be too long.” You turned on the TV and the theme song came through the speakers. With Ben’s attention directed towards the television, you left the room and took the stairs two at a time. You checked the time again and decided that you didn’t have time for a shower. Entering the bedroom, you threw open the door of your closet and pulled out one of the few dresses you owned. The top had a subtle floral pattern, the flowers; a navy blue. There was a double ruffle that followed the scoop neckline. The bottom half of the dress was a solid navy blue beginning higher up on the waist. There was row of small golden buttons, running down the middle of the skirt.

“That’ll work.” You said, as you held it up to the light, Rummaging through your drawer, you found some matching undergarments and some spanx. You quickly changed, leaving your old clothes on the floor. You turned to face the mirror and pulled your hair into a messy bun at the nape of your neck and combed your bangs to the side.

You left the bedroom and heard Ben’s laugh drift up the stairs, causing you to smile. You flipped on the bathroom light and opened open your make-up drawer. There wasn’t enough time to do something fancy so you opted for a natural look; mascara, brown eye liner and lip gloss. After a quick application of deodorant, you returned to your bedroom to find some shoes and a clutch.

Finally ready, you carefully made you way down the stairs. You looked up to find Ben standing in the living room entrance, watching your descent. You felt your face grow warm as a small smile grew on his face.

“Well, what do you think? An improvement over the sweatpants and t-shirt?’ You asked, reaching the bottom step. You spread your arms out to the side and did a small spin. Ben cleared his throat and took a step towards you; a worried looked on his face.

“Did you see a girl while you were up there?” He asked, sounding concerned, “She typically has some sort of nerdy shirt on and yoga pants. I last saw her with bird’s nest on top of her head.” His lips curled into a smile.

“That must have been the girl I saw climbing out the window with a scared look on her face.” You joked back. “She’s long gone by now.”

“Drat!” Ben tapped a long finger on his cheek, studying you. “Since you’re all dolled up, would you like to come to dinner with me?” Ben asked.

“I’d love too. Let me grab my coat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always tell me what you think. I appreciate the feedback.


	9. A Hiddleston, A Dance and A Mishap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I know this is not the Halloween Chapter but we are getting there. It will be the next chapter I promise.

The car ride was passed with animated conversation about the antics of the people you both worked with. Ben pulled the car smoothly up to the curb and opened his door as a valet opened yours. You slid out of the car as gracefully as possible, taking the valet’s hand to help you up. After giving the valet a shy smile and a thank you, you waited for Ben to finished chatting with the attendant. You watched the people around you. Many of the women were dressed in sleek dresses and bejewelled; their necklaces, rings, and bracelets flashing and sparking in the light. Almost all of the men were in suits or tuxedos, looking like they were waking down the red carpet. You were beginning to feel a little underdressed when you heard some call Ben’s name. You turned to see a rather tall man with long black hair embrace Ben in a bear hug.

“Tom! I didn’t think you would be able to make it!” Ben said excitedly, as he held Tom at arms’ length. You froze.

 _Oh my God! Tom Hiddleston is standing six feet away from me. Remain calm. Breathe. Holy shit! He is coming this way. Breathe. Don’t forget your name._ _Be cool._

 _“_ Tom, this is _______. She’s the fabulous make-up artist I was telling you about.” Ben introduced you. You stared at Tom with wide eyes, your breathing starting to come in short, shallow bursts. “_________, this is one of my dearest friends, Tom Hiddleston.”

“Hello love, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.” Tom gave you a friendly smile. He extended his hand and you looked down at it, slightly confused at the gesture. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Ben cleared his throat and Tom looked at him for a moment and realized his mistake but you were too stunned to notice.

 _Shake it._ Your brain shouted and you extended your own hand. Tom took your hand and grasped in a warm embrace.

“Hi.” You finally managed to form words of greeting. “It’s… uh … very niceable to meet you.”

 _Seriously?_ You gave yourself a mental slap. “I mean it’s very nice to meet you Mr. Hiddleston.”

“Tom’s fine,” He said with a laugh. Tom leaned a little closer and whispered, “Don’t worry. I still have my fanboy moments as well.” You laughed a little earning a warm smile from him. “Well I’m hungry enough to eat all the biscuits in England. Shall we?”

Tom led the way into the restaurant as Ben fell in step beside you.

“He’s quite the character, isn’t he?” Ben whispered, his voice full of pride.

“He’s utterly adorable.” You replied before snapping your mouth shut. Apparently your filter wasn’t working very well. Ben laughed and helped you take off your coat.

“I don’t think anyone has described him that way but I bet he would be delighted to hear it.” Ben said.

“Don’t you dare tell him.” You said, poking Ben in the arm.

“My dear lady, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Ben said, taking your hand in his to stop the onslaught of poking. A tingle ran up your arm and as much as you long to lace your fingers through his, you gently took your hand from his. A shy smile lit your face as you blushed and placed both hands on your clutch.

“Right this way Madame, gentlemen.” The hostess said politely though her dark eyes widen when she realized who these men were. “I believe the rest of your party is waiting in the VIP lounge.” She said over her shoulder as she led the way in the main part of the building. You entered a large, grandiose ballroom with a beautiful, crystal chandelier hanging above the dance floor. Tables and booths ringed the outside of the dance floor on three sides. A stage completed the fourth side of the room; a live orchestra seated upon it. The tables were done up with white table cloths and turquoise runners. The centerpieces were of a floral nature with peacock feathers as accents. The hostess led you around the edge of the dance floor and up a small set of stairs to a rather crowded lounge area.

“Ben! We were wondering if you were going to show up.” Martin called, raising the drink in his hand. His other arm was wrapped around the shoulder of his lovely wife, Amanda. Her short blonde hair was swept to the side and fastened with a small, silver flower. Her black dress was modest, coming to the knee and the collar starting at the neck. Lara, on the other hand, was dressed in a flashy red dress, with matching red lipstick and dark eyeliner. You felt very underdressed with your casual dress and flats.

“Martin, you remember my friend Tom.” Ben said, gesturing to the tall man beside him.

“Of course! He’s the guy that makes me feel like a dwarf every time I stand next to him.” Martin replied, rising from his spot and shaking Tom’s hand. You snickered at the height difference between the two men. Amanda got off the couch and pulled you into a hug.

“It’s lovely to see you darling.” Amanda said, “You haven’t been around lately. The children miss you.”

“And I miss them. Perhaps this weekend I can pop by to see them.” You replied as you pulled away. The hostess waited patiently while all the introductions were made before leading you group to the table. Once the group reached the table, you paused, unsure of where to sit so you stood back and waited as people chose their seats. Martin and Amanda immediately sat down in the chairs closest to them while Lara sat across from them.

“Ben darling, come sit next to me.” She said with a bright smile as she patted the chair beside her. “I have a story about my first theatre experience that will leave you in stitches.” Lara looked expectantly at Ben, her smile starting to fade. Ben glanced at you, his eyebrow raised in a question. You gave him a small smile and moved to sit beside Amanda. Before you could pull your chair out from the table, Tom gallantly did it for you.

“Thank you.” You murmured as you sat down, a blush rising in your cheeks. Unbuttoning his jacket, Tom took the empty seat behind you and opened his menu. You followed suit and began to read your options. You had a craving for fish but your eyes bulged at the price. How could anyone think that forty-five pounds was acceptable for a piece of salmon?

 _‘I had better be getting be getting the whole fish for that amount.’_ You thought before moving your eyes to the salad section. Even the salads were an extraordinary amount of money but were the cheapest thing on the menu. With a quiet sigh, you closed the menu and for the first time wished you had a better paying job. While everyone was still studying their menus, you glanced around at the people around you. Each one of them had a career that made them hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars. Paying forty-five pounds for a main course was pocket change to them. You looked over to Ben as he closed up his menu. He gave you a brilliant smile just as the waiter returned to the table.

“Are we ready to order ladies and gentlemen?” He asked, a polite smile on his face. You studied his face while he was jotting down the orders, noting the dark bags under his eyes and the creases around his mouth. You knew what caused those lines, your father had them etched in his face as he struggled to keep his large family afloat. You quickly made a mental note to give him large tip.

‘And for the lovely young lady over here?” He asked and you gave him a warm smile.

“Could I please get a glass of water and the Chicken Caesar Salad?” You replied, handing the menu to him.

“Most certainly. I’ll back in the drinks in a few moments.” He said as he bowed slightly.

“So Tom, I heard that you had a pretty embarrassing moment while you were filming Thor.” Martin said, his blue eyes lit with interest.

“Oh Gods,” Tom said with a laugh, “Did Ben tell you?”

Martin nodded, “But you know how Ben loves to embellish things.” All eyes turn to Ben and he gave a shrug.

“You can’t tell a story without exaggerating it a bit.” He said, “Otherwise most stories would be too boring to tell.”

“What happened Tom?” Amanda asked, smiling at the banter.

“Well we were shooting a fight scene and Joss really wanted to make it look like an actual fight was occurring between Thor and Loki, so I turned to Chris and told him to hit me. After some reassurance, Chris finally agreed. Now this man has arms the size of tree trunks. When he swung at me, I ducked a little too slowly and got an elbow to the nose. It knocked me flat on my rear. Chris froze and as the crew gathered around me, he looked at them and said, ‘He told me to do it. You all heard him right?’ My face felt like it had collided with a brick wall. When some of the crew men helped me to my feet all I said was I had felt the thunder in my face.” He beamed as the table broke out in laughter. “My face was fairly sore for the next couple days.”

Not to be outdone, Martin began relaying a story about a man that he had called out in public, swearing and cussing up a storm. The next morning he had gone to doctor’s appointment and when his name was called, the doctor turned out to be the man he had publicly humiliated. Needless to say, it had been a very awkward appointment.

Lara talked about her first performance ever on stage and when she went to start the first song, the words wouldn’t come out so the orchestra stopped and began the song over again. Again the words wouldn’t come out but her dinner had no problem making an entrance. The poor tuba player that was just below her had been covered in chicken noodle soup. Lara had burst into tears and the stage manager called for an intermission so they could get things straightened out.

Amanda regaled the time so was doing some promotional work for her new show on the radio and during the entire interview she called the announcer by the wrong name. It wasn’t until after the interview that the man told her that his name was Jack and not Jacob.

Ben cleared his throat and waited for the laughter to die down before he began. “When I was six, I was out with my parents exploring a quaint little Greek market. Now when you’re six years old, things of a different culture all seemed like you have landed on an alien planet. My mother was over by a vegetable stand, haggling with the merchant while my father slinked off to look at some of the more antique looking items. I wandered through the stalls when I came across a fruit stand with some of the ripest looking grapes I had ever seen. They were like deep, red rubies glistening in the sun. I reached up to take some when a wasp landed on my arm. I froze looking at this large, yellow bugger and he stared back at me. I didn’t move remembering what my mother had said about wasps.” Ben paused for a moment and took a sip of water before continuing,” ‘Remember Benedict, if there is a bee or a wasp around you, stay still. He will eventually leave.” He finished in a close imitation of his mother. “A crate fell to my left and I jolted. The wasp took off and though I didn’t feel him land again, I definitely felt when the little blighter sting my arse. I began to cry and an old widow peeked over the edge of the stall, watching me. She said something in her language before she came hobbling around the front of the stand. The widow asked me in a gruff voice what happened. I explain through my tears that I had been stung on my bottom. To my horror, she pulled my trousers and pants down before picking me up by the waist and turned me over so my arse was in the air for the world to see. She took an onion from the stall and began rubbing it one my bottom. When dad found me, he stopped for a moment, taking in the old widow, the onion and me screaming at the top of my lungs and started to chuckle. By the time my mother located us, dad was bent over laughing and I was crying.” Ben smiled at the memory as everyone laughed. You could easily imagine a small boy, his face red with rage and his blue-green eyes filled with tears his bare bottom up in the air while a hunched over woman rubbed a whole onion in a circular motion around the site of a sting. You were still chuckling when the waiter reappeared with a tray of drinks. He handed them out and explained that dinner would be a little longer as the kitchen were having some problems with one of the ovens.

“So _______, do you have any embarrassing stories?” Tom asked looking at you with bright, green eyes.

“My entire life has been a string of embarrassing stories.” You said, earning a laugh from him.

“Can I tell the one that happened on the day we met?” Ben asked over the chuckles at the table. You glanced at him with a worried look.

“Oi! That’s a good one! I would have turned tail and left after what happened” Martin said, pointing with his glass.    

“No you wouldn’t have, you would have sassed that girl within an inch of her life and made it look like her fault.” Amanda said with a large grin. Martin squeezed her hand and gave her a smirk. Ben launched enthusiastically into the story.

“So Martin and I had our first meeting with the Sherlock writers to discuss the pilot and the meeting went fairly well. I was pretty thrilled at the prospects of playing Sherlock and I was telling Martin as much when I saw this girl looking in our direction. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, with big, wide eyes. She seemed unaware that her tour group had moved on, leaving her standing the middle of the hallway. I remember glancing behind me to see what she was so fascinated by. Abruptly, she gave a shake of her head and hurried to catch up with her group. Suddenly, she was falling and the tea in her cup came spiralling towards the group in front of her.” As Ben continued to tell the tale, you sank lower in your chair as blood rushed to your face. “She hit the ground, her cup beside her as the girl that was hit with the tea, whirled around to rip into her. I hurried to reach the girl on the floor and helped her up. Her face was as bright as tomato and despite her fall, she stood up, made a joke before thanking me and went to deal with the tea girl.”

“You poor dear, “Amanda whispered as she leaned closer to you, “When Martin came home that night, he had told about the girl who had spilt her tea. At least I think that was the story, he was laughing so hard that it was a bit hard to make out.”

“Ben, tell the story about how she knocked over the bin full of water.” Martin said and Ben’s face lit up as he recalled the memory. You sank lower in your chair and Tom sensing your discomfort, leaned over.

“Would you like to dance? There’s some time before dinner” He asked, nodding towards the dance floor.

“Oh god yes.” You replied, taking the hand that Tom held out. Ben paused in mid-story, a questioning look on his face, as you rose from the table as if your seat was on fire. Tom led you out to the dance floor and twirled you into position. You placed your hand on his shoulder and gently held his other hand. After waiting a few counts, Tom led you in a waltz, whirling you around the floor with grace.

“I wasn’t lying that my life was a string of embarrassing stories. I’m sure that Ben and Martin could fill a book with all the things I’ve done over the past two and half years.” You said, keeping your eyes fixed on the white shirt in front of you. “I’m probably one of the most accident-prone people you will ever meet.”

Tom looked down, his green eyes shone with quiet humour, “You look pretty coordinated to me. You haven’t stepped on my toes which is a miracle because I have rather large feet.” Your lips quirked up in a smile. “Ready? I’m going to spin you.” Tom moved his hand off you waist and you spun on the spot before taking his hand again. Tom chuckled again and you asked what he found so funny.

“I think Ben is the uncoordinated one tonight.” He said and as he stepped to the side, you caught a glimpse of a red-faced Ben and Lara looking annoyed.

“Perhaps, he just has the wrong dance partner.” You said with a considering look on your face.

“Maybe we should switch partners. You could probably teach him a thing or two about dancing.” Tom suggested.

“I like your thinking Thomas.” You said, dropping his hand.

“Only my mother calls me that.” He replied as he bowed. With a laugh, you dropped into a deep curtsy before rising and following Tom to the struggling dance partners. Tom greeted them before asking Lara for the honour of having her as a dance partner. You would have gone weak in the knees if Tom had asked you like that. Lara agreed and they moved onto the dance floor, leaving you with Ben. Ben watched them disappear amid the dancers, a look of relief on his face. He turned to look at you and before looking away embarrassed.

“Would you like to….” Ben began, scratching at the back of his neck

“I’d love to.” You answered. With a relieved grin, Ben took your hand and pulled you closer to him. You placed your hand on his shoulder. His shoulder was much more comfortable height; Tom was a bit too tall and your arm had grown tired early on in the waltz. You waited for Ben to put his hand on your waist but you saw that he was hesitating. Gently, you placed your hand over his and moved it to your waist. It was deliciously warm and you began to think about those hands moving lower. You came back to reality as Ben let out the breath he had been holding. He gave you a nervous smile before looking down at his feet. He stepped to the side and paused; another step and another pause, leading you in a halting dance.

“Ben?” You said and his eyes came to rest on your face. You saw a hint of sadness in those intelligent eyes. For the first time since you had met him, you found something that made Ben uncomfortable. You felt your heart reach out to him.

“I’m sorry _________ , I am rubbish at this.” He muttered, looking back down at his feet. You put your hand under his chin, feeling the faint stubble brush against your fingers. Bringing his gaze back up, you gave him a reassuring smile.

“Lucky for you, I’m not.” You said with a wink. “But I need you to do some things for me.”

“Anything.” He breathed, the word sending a rush of want through your body.

“Keep your eyes on mine.” You ordered, pushing the thoughts away for the time being. Ben looked at you, his blue-green eyes never wavering.

“Do you trust me?” You asked and his eyes held confusion at your question. You could see the attempt to connect it to the situation at hand.

“Y-es.” He responded slowly. You studied his face, determining if the answer was genuine.

“Good. I am going to lead and I want you to follow me.” You took a step to the side and Ben looked at his feet and stumbled.

“Eyes up, Ben. Trust me to guide you. I won’t let you fall.” You said patiently. Ben returned his eyes to your face. “Keep your eyes on my face. My body will tell you where to move. Now step.” You took another step, your eyes trained on Ben’s. He followed slowly but there was no stumbling. You took another step, keeping your body straight and Ben followed suit, this time a little easier.

“Wonderful.” You said, a large grin on your face. “You’re doing wonderful.” Without a word, you increased the pace, throwing Ben’s pattern slightly. He stumbled, stepping on your toes and went to stop but you didn’t look down or give any attention to the misstep. You pulled him into the next step and he reluctantly followed. You could see the frustration in his face as he tried to concentrate on the faster pace. The muscles in his shoulder tensed under your hand and his grip tightened on your other hand.

“Ben, relax.” You said quietly, “Trust me. I won’t let you fall nor will I let you give up.”

“Dancing is not my thing. I’m rubbish at it.” He muttered and moved with you without a mistake.

“Singing is not my thing yet I still do it because I am not going to get any better if I just throw in the towel.” You replied, patiently. “Rome was not built in a day, nor will you learn how dance within one song but you will have gotten better than you were when you started.” You completed the final circle as the orchestra finished their song. Ben became aware that he hadn’t made a mistake in awhile.

********

Martin sat with Amanda at the table watching as you patiently guided Ben in a slow waltz.

“He’s got that look on his face.” Martin said, squinting at the pair of you.

“The frustrated one or the stubborn one?” Amanda asked, sliding closer to Martin to get a better look.

“The frustrated one.” Martin replied, “The storm clouds are brewing.” Amanda grimaced as they continued to watch. Amanda took Martin’s hand and he gave her a quick squeeze. You had quickened the pace and Ben stumbled.

“Here it comes.” Martin commented quietly.

‘I can’t watch.” Amanda said, closing her eyes tightly, “Tell me what’s happening.”

“He saying something to her and he’s trying to stop. Ben’s tensing up. Shit, this is not looking good.” Martin informed his wife. He fell quiet and Amanda opened one eye.

“What? What happened?” She asked, searching for what caused her husband to lapse into silence.

“Sweet mother of Christ. She did it.” Martin said in astonishment. Amanda looked at Ben’s face and saw the storm receding. “Even Olivia couldn’t avert the storm once he got that look on his face.”

Ben bowed, a sunny smile returning to his face. He took a step closer, gazing intently at your face. Another step.

“Come on, a little closer.” Amanda whispered, squeezing Martin’s hand tighter.

“Come on man! Kiss the girl!” Martin said loudly, causing the couple at the next table to look at him. He gave them a small wave of apology before returning his attention to the couple in front of him. Lara appeared out of the crowd.

“No, no, no, no! Where did she come from?” Amanda asked as Ben took a step back.

“Damn it!” Martin growled as he struck the table with a fist, making the drinks slosh in their cups. Amanda dropped her head in her hands with a groan. As the rest of their party made their way back to the table, Amanda and Martin hid their disappointment and pulled out their smiles.

 

***********

Supper passed quickly in the company of your companions, even Lara was being kind. You had just finished the last of your salad, you noticed Lara looking around, a calculating look in her eyes. You were about to say something to her when Tom asked you whether you enjoyed England over Canada. You began comparing the two but that was like comparing apples to oranges. You heard a chair scrape back and you turn to see a rush of liquid heading your way. You gasp as it hit you, soaking into your hair and clothes. The glassware fell to the floor and on the table, shattering on impact. You looked up and met Ben’s eyes as he stared at you in shock, his mouth hanging open. Behind him, a young waiter clutched the tray in front of him, his eyes popping out of his head. During the confusion, Lara pulled her chair back to the table, a smug smirk on her red lips.

“Okay,” You said, slowly, wiping the water out of your eyes. “That just happened.”

“I…I…I’m so sorry.” The waiter stammered, snapping everyone out of their paralysis. You reached for a napkin to dry your face, thankful that you hadn’t put on any foundation. You gave him a small smile.

“It’s okay. It was just an accident. Those things happen.” You blotted at your dress. Two more waiters appeared, armed with towels and brooms. Within minutes, the mess was cleaned up but the young waiter hovered over the table, apologizing every thirty seconds. Soon the pot-bellied manager appeared, sending the boy away with a wave of his hand.

“I apologize for what has happened here. Things like this shouldn’t happen at all.” The manager said, hitting his palm with his fist. “That clumsy oaf.” He muttered under his breath.

“Please don’t punish him.” You said suddenly, breaking the staring competition. The manager looked startled at your comment as if he couldn’t fathom why you wouldn’t want him punished. Finally the man bowed his head at your request. He asked if there was anything else he could do for your group.

“Could we get the bill and can you have my car pulled up to the front. It’s a dark grey Porshe with black detailing under the windows.” Ben asked, politely

“Most certainly sir. The bill will be on the house and your car will be out front in a few minutes.” The manager replied before bowed his head once more and leaving. Ben stood up and pulled his jacket off, draping it around your shoulders.

“Well I certainly hope the bill is on the house. Just look at this mess.” Lara snorted, lifting the sodden table cloth off the table and letting it drop heavily back in place. Martin rolled his eyes at her and was about to open his mouth when he abruptly closed it again as Amanda stomped on his foot.

“It’s been a lovely night darlings. We should do this again sometime.” Amanda said rising from her chair, a kind smile lit her beautiful face. You returned the smile and stood up as well, pulling Ben’s jacket closed.

“It was nice to meet everyone but I’ve got to jet. I have a plane to catch in the morning. Lara, could I offer you a lift home?” Tom asked. Lara thought about it for a moment before standing and accepting his offer.

“It was nice meeting you, Tom. I am looking forward to seeing Loki on the big screen. The teaser trailer looked fantastic.” You said, taking his hand. Tom brought your hand to his lips and looked at you with intense green eyes.

“For once it was a pleasure mortal. Your company would be most welcome on Asgard.” He growled in Loki’s voice and with a wink, he released your hand. Ben and Tom embraced and Tom spoke quietly to Ben for a moment before taking Lara’s arm and leaving. 

“Well my dear, I should get you home before you catch a chill.” Ben said, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you out the room. After retrieving your coats, you followed Ben outside, wrapping his jacket around you as the cold air assaulted your body. The car was waiting as promised and just as before, Ben opened the door and handed you into the car.

And just as before, neither of you noticed the camera pointed in your direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you thought. :) Have a lovely day.


	10. The Halloween Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to apologize for long this took. Between Christmas holidays, the parties, and binge watching Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Once Upon A Time, I may have lost track of time and the urge to write. Fear not! Here is the long awaited chapter. Enjoy!

You put the final touches on your make-up and studied it with a critical eye. You had spent several days playing around with eye shadows and lipsticks, trying to match the shades exactly. Starting with a pale purple in the corner of your eye lid, it gradually deepened to a plum colour on the other side. You had carefully darkened your eyebrows and shaped them in the thin line that Jessica Rabbit possessed. There were thick, dark lashes glued on top of your own. Lastly, you opted to use a coral lip stain rather than lipstick to keep it from fading too quickly. On the last day of your vacation you had gotten your hair dyed to a copper red, which shone in the bathroom lights.

 _After tonight, I can finally get my hair cut though I might keep the red._ You thought as you used a large curler to curl the ends of your hair. With a little fiddling, the big ringlets relaxed under your coaxing fingers. One final coat of hair spray held them in place.

“Lady, are you almost finished? The party started fifteen minutes ago and I need to get my party on.” Paula rapt on the bathroom door with her knuckles, “What is taking you so long?”

“Just hush your face.” You replied, slipping the sparkling red dress off it hanger. Working the film industry, you knew several talented people who could create authentic costumes for a moderate price. “I didn’t complain when I had to sit for ages when you got your hair relaxed.” You stepped into the dress and pulled it up, securing it with the hooks that cleverly held it to your corset. As an added measure, there was a double sided tape to hold the edges of the dangerously low neckline. The dress did not cut as low in the back as most costumes did and that helped in avoiding wardrobe malfunctions.

“It needed to be done. I lost too many combs to that tangled mess.” Paula replied, popping the gum that she constantly chewed. You slipped on the red high heels, lifting the hem of the dress a couple inches off the floor. With a final adjustment of the corset, you picked up the long purple gloves and pulled them on.

“Are you ready?” You asked, your hand on the door handle.

“I have been ready since last Tuesday.” Paula replied as you opened the door, revealing an irritated Jasmine leaning against the wall. Paula straightened and flicked her dark, brown hair over her shoulder.

“Finally,” she muttered, popping her gum once more.

“Well, what do you think?” You struck a pose, pushing your left hip out through the high cut slit in the dress and crossing one arm under your chest, the other holding the door frame. A smile grew on Paula’s face as she studied the look you had created.

“Are you wearing any underwear?” She asked, pointing the exposed hip.

“Of course I am,” You replied crossly, dropping the pose.

“You must have the wickedest wedgie going on.” She replied, motioning you to spin for her.

“The things we endure all for the sake of beauty.” You said dramatically as you walked in a slow circle.

“Well my dear, you are going to knock that man’s socks off.” She commented, adjusting the back of your dress. You laughed at the preposterous idea that Ben would be blown away by your costume.

“Why are you laughing?” Paula asked, as she stepped back in front of you. “Do you not believe me that he is going to be tripping over his feet trying to get to you?”

You shook your head and Paula grabbed your arm and pulled you back into the bathroom. “Hey!” You protested, stumbling in your high heels. She positioned you in front of the mirror and instructed you to strike the same pose. You looked at the girl in front of you, mimicking your movements. You felt awkward and it showed in your reflection.

“You have to mean it. Do it the same way you did when you came out of the bathroom.” Paula urged.

“This is ridiculous.” You mutter, watching the Paula’s face in the mirror.

“You’re ridiculous.” She shot back, “Indulge me.” With a large sigh, you stood tall and put some attitude in your pose.

“Now open you mouth slightly and lower your eyelids a little.” You followed her directions and before your eyes, the girl in the mirror changed from you into the sex bomb of Jessica Rabbit. Your eyes widened and you stepped away from the mirror.

“See?” Paula asked, “When you’re not worrying about looking silly, you ooze sex appeal. Ben would be an idiot not to notice.”

“What makes you think that I want to attract Ben?” You scoffed though your face flushed.

Paula rolled her eyes, “Did you seriously just ask me that question? The sexual tension between the two of you is so thick everyone in the room chokes on it.” She pushed you out of the bathroom and down the hall. “Get your coat. It’s time to party!”

Paula hailed a cab and climbed in with you carefully getting in behind her. She gave the cabbie the address before settling back in the seat. The cabbie stared on you in the rear view mirror for a moment before pulling the car away from the curve.

“Did your make-up attack you there, love?”The cabbie joked, raising his voice over the radio station. Your felt your face grow red and you looked at your gloved hands. A thick strand of your hair fell over one eye.

Paula let out a loud gasp and turn to face you with wide, brown eyes. “Miss Dmitry. I am so sorry” She held up her hands in defence. “But you insisted on taking a common taxi rather than your prearranged limo. We can stop and I will find you a less offensive ride. Please don’t punish me.”

Taking your cue from Paula, you held up a gloved hand, effectively silencing her rambling. Adopting a slight Russian accent, you began to speak, “You are correct that I wanted to take a commoner’s taxi, yet I expected that you would have informed the driver of who I am so I would not have to deal with drab conversation. Since you failed to do so, I will have to let you go.”

“But, but” Paula blinked, a look of shock on her face.

“Perhaps then I shall find an assistant that is not so incompetent.” You continued in a dispassionate voice as Paula buried her head in her hands. You looked away from the scene beside you as Paula’s shoulders started to shake.

 _Hold it together Paula._ You thought as you looked at the window in front of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the cabbie watching Paula’s sobbing form. He opened his mouth and then closed it, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“Look miss.” He finally said, “It ain’t her fault. Your assistant did tell me who you were but I’m forgetful, you see and me mouth opened before I had a chance to close it.”

You continued to look straight ahead but indicated that you were listening to his words. He swallowed and pushed on, “We cabbies are used to driving around the likes of common folk and we aren’t much used to the likes of you. Look, don’t fire her. She looks like a very useful person.”

You looked over at your friend before quickly looking away. Her shoulders were still shaking although it was probably because she was trying desperately to keep from laughing. You fought down a smile and fixed the cabbie with a haughty look.

“Then what do you propose I do?” You asked, waving your hand in Paula’s direction, “I don’t settle for incompetence. It breeds laziness and poor work ethics.”

“Give her another chance. It ain’t her fault. I’ll make this lift on the house if you just give the poor wretch another chance.”

You settled against the back of the seat and pretended to think about it. After a moment, you looked at Paula.

“Priscilla.” You said, “I have decided to…”

“It’s Patricia.” Paula piped up.

“Patricia. This cabbie has compelled me to let you keep your job.”

“Oh thank you Miss Dmitry! Thank you so much!” Paula grabbed you hand and gave it a squeeze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She turned to the cabbie, “Thank you kind sir! I would kiss you but if there weren’t glass in the way!”

“Don’t mention it.” He mumbled as the tip of his ears turned a deep pink. He pulled up the curb and turned to look at the pair of you. “Sorry about the mix-up. I hope you have a good night Miss Dmitry and Miss Patricia.”

You graced him with a smile, “Don’t worry your mind about it. Thank you sir.” Paula had jumped out of the cab and ran around to open your door. For once, you slid out the car gracefully and stepped on the sidewalk. Paula leaned back into the car and said some words to the cabbie before shutting the door and waving him off.

You waited until the car reached the end of the street before you started laughing.

“That was brilliant! I can’t believe we were able to pull that off!” You exclaimed as Paula burst out laughing.

“Now whatever could you mean, Miss Dmitry?” Paula asked, an innocent look on her face.

“And they say there isn’t any talent left in the world.” You said, shaking your head and pulling your coat a little tighter against the cool breeze. Arm in arm, you walked into the building and handed in your invitations. You left your coat under the concierge’s care and headed towards the ballroom.

“Remember,” Paula said, her hand resting on the door handle, “You are a sex bomb. So head up and sexy walk.” You nodded, rolling your shoulders back and putting your head up. Paula swung open the doors to a busy room. Birds, animals, humans and magical creatures mingled in groups around the hall, only the bravest or intoxicated taking to the fog-covered dance floor. The props department had gone all out and decorated the hall with white and orange pumpkins and glowing jack-o-lanterns. Webs hung from the ceiling and walls, realistic looking spiders clinging to them. Every now and then, a skeleton made an appearance along the wall or sitting at a table. The music coming through the speakers was pounding out a fast and furious beat and you felt the bass resound in your heart.

“Would you like a drop of blood Madame?” A waiter bow slightly, his face made to look pale and drawn. He carried a tray with glasses filled with a deep, red wine. You spotted two well done puncture wounds in his neck. “I was assured that it was of finest quality.”

“That’s rather original; a vampire’s thrall serving his own blood.” You said, taking two glasses. “Who did your make-up?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” replied the waiter with a wink, “I must be going. The master calls me.” With that he disappeared into the crowd.

“So what’s the game plan?” You turned to Paula and handed her a glass.

“Well,” Paula thought while she sipped on her wine, “You are going to find Ben and dazzle him with your sexiness and I’m off the find if Aladdin over there wants to discover a whole new world.”

“And what if that doesn’t happen?” You looked nervously about the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone you knew.

“Don’t fall apart on me now. If you need any help, text me.” Paula said before weaving her wave between the groups of people. You wandered slowly through the crowds, receiving looks of surprise, disdain and the one that shocked you the most, interest. Finally, you happened upon a Tweedle Dee and a Tweedle Dum.

“Amanda! Martin!” You greeted them with a surprised shout. Amanda turned a champagne flute in her hand.

“Look at you!” Amanda exclaimed, taking your hand. “Give us a turn.” You obliged, spinning a slow circle. You stopped to see Martin’s mouth hanging open and you couldn’t help but laugh. Amanda looked at her husband and hit his arm.

“Martin! Close your mouth before that bumblebee over there decides to fly in.” She said with a laugh. With a snap, Martin closed his mouth but still held a disbelieving look on his face.

“Dear Lord, I have rendered him speechless.” You said watching his face.

“So that’s the secret.” Amanda said, putting a finger on her chin, “I’ve been trying to discover it for years.”

“_________,” Martin finally managed, “You… you clean up well.”

“This is how I look when I wake up in the morning.” You joked, brushing your curls over your shoulder. “I have to tone it down so people don’t riot over me.”

“Well darling you look fabulous. Now we just need Ben and the equation will be complete.” Amanda looked around the room for the British actor.

“Why does everyone think that I dressed up this way to impress Ben? Perhaps I just wanted to go as some cartoon character and not a Disney princess.”

“You,” Martin pointed with his glass, “Are a terrible liar.” You felt your face flush and were grateful for the dim light. “Everyone wants to be a Disney princess. If I could have fit in Grace’s Cinderella’s costume, I would have come as that.”

“Do you know what’s like to walk into a room and see your husband trying to squeeze into a tiny blue dress? Never mind the fact that he almost got the bloody thing on.” Amanda asked you while Martin gave her a sarcastic look.

“So why the Alice in Wonderland characters?” You asked but before you could get an answer out of them, the doors to the hall flew open and fog began to pour in. Taking the cue, the DJ stopped the current track and the first strands of _The Phantom of the Opera_ came whispering through the speakers. Loiuse walked to the slowly to the middle of the dance floor, mouthing the lyrics. She stopped and turned back to the door before holding out her hand. Ben swept into the room, his cape causing the fog to swirl in his wake.

“What a drama queen.” Martin muttering into his wine.

“Hush.” Amanda whispered, “You’re only jealous that you didn’t think of an entrance like that.” Martin scoffed and shifted his weight before becoming quiet. You watched in awe as Ben commanded the room, drawing every eye to his presence.

Ben did not make his way directly to Loiuse by skirted the dance floor, circling his target like a predator about to attack. Gradually, he grew closer bringing with him an intimating air and Loiuse took a step back, using her hands to shield her face. As the end of the song drew near, Ben stepped back into the fog and allowed it to roll over him, hiding him from sight. Loiuse sank to the ground, her face raised to the ceiling as the last of the notes faded from the speaker. She held the pose as the room erupted in loud applause and cheers. Ben reappeared and helped Loiuse to her feet, large grin on his face. As one, they bowed to each side of the room, Ben pausing to tip his hat to the DJ.

The music resumed its fast beat as the Ben and Loiuse left the floor.

“Ben!” Martin called, lifting his glass over his head. “Ben!”

“Do you want me to find you a stool? I doubt his can see you over the crowd.” You said politely.

“Are you ever going to get tired of that joke?” Martin growled, his blue eyes fixed on the Ben weaving through the crowd. “It was one time.”

“Never.” You whispered in his ear. Martin jumped as Amanda looked on in amusement.

“Bugger off.” Martin said, wiping his ear on his shoulder. “Benedict!”

Hearing his name, Ben turned to look about the crowd. When he was finally looking in your group direction, the three of you began to wave in attempt to capture his attention. Finally, he noticed the waving and made his way over to where you stood. As he approached, your hands began to sweat under their fabric confinement. You shifted your gaze from the masked man to the floor, unable to meet those blue-green eyes. You felt someone nudge your shoulder.

“Head up _______.” Amanda whispered.

“I’m scared. What if he doesn’t like it?” You asked

“That man would have to be as blind as a bat to miss how beautiful you are tonight.” Amanda said, keeping her eye on Ben.

“What if he doesn’t like the dress?”

“Take a deep breath and pull your big girl panties up. You told me yourself that you didn’t dress up for Ben so who cares what he thinks.” Amanda caught your eye and smiled, “You silenced Martin, that’s no small feat. Ben is almost here. Chin up.”

Heeding Amanda's advice, you raised head and plastered a small smile on your lips. Ben reached the Martin and greeted him with enthusiasm.

“Hello Martin, Amanda,_ _ _____” Ben faltered on your name. He swallowed hard as he took in the revealing, sparkly red dress, the purple gloves and copper hair. You raised an eyebrow at him as his eyes came back to meet yours.

“Hi Ben.” You said, lifting your hand in greeting. Ben took it in his and pressed his lips to the glove.

“You never cease to amaze me.” He murmured, as he straightened back to his full height.

“Well I hope that is a good thing.” You answered with a chuckle. Ben flashed you an award-winning smile that caused your heart to flutter.

“Ben!” A female voice called over the crowd. You groaned inwardly as you recognized the sultry voice and you were pretty sure that you saw Amanda roll her eyes. Lara appeared at Ben’s side, dressed in skin tight, white pants, tall, white boots and a white, one-armed crop top. There was a gun belt around her waist with a sporting blaster in the holster. Her dark hair was gathered in a tight, braided bun at the nape of her neck.

“Really?” You blurted out as you stared incredulously at her costume. Lara looked at you under her thick lashes, a small smirk danced on her lips. The urge to punch the smirk off her face was growing and your hand tightened on the stem of your wine glass. Amanda took your arm and pulled you away with the excuse of needing help in the loo. As you glanced over your shoulder, you could see Lara ask Ben a question before taking his arm and leading him towards the dance floor. Ben looked back to Martin and mouthed ‘help me’.

“Out of all the costumes to pick from, she had to wear that one.” You said, setting your glass down on a small table to the side. Amanda lumbered over to the mirror to check her make-up. “She looks like some cheap, hired escort with those skin tight clothes.”

“Darling, might I remind you that you are wearing a dress that looks painted on.” Amanda asked, running a finger under her eye. You winced as the make-up smeared slightly.

“But at least you can’t see my underwear through my clothes.” You said approaching the mirror, “Don’t do that. You’re going to ruin the base and then everything will have to come off. Come here.” You took a Q-tip out of your clutch and dampened it before leaning over Amanda’s bulging costume.

“You managed to fit pants under there?” Amanda asked, looking at the ceiling as you corrected the smudged eye-liner.

“Of course I am. Why do people keep asking me that?”

“Perhaps the dress you’re wearing makes it highly improbable to believe that pants would fit under it.” Amanda fixed you with a pointed look as you took the Q-tip away from her face.

“My goodies are all safely covered up and shall remain that way.” You replied, throwing the dirtied Q-tip into the garbage.

Amanda scoffed as she re-examined her eye liner. “I think that with costume like that and Ben clearly interested, why bother with pants.” She took out her lipstick and ran it over her lips. “Coat rooms and closets are great for raunchy escapades.”

“Seriously? You and Martin?” You asked in disbelief but after a moment’s thought, it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination. “Never mind. I don’t want to know about your sexcapades.” Amanda flashed you a mischievous grin and placed a finger on her lips.

“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation. I’m going to get a drink.” You said, picking your clutch off the counter and heading towards the door.

“You have wine sitting on the table.” Amanda pointed out.

“This conversation needs something stronger; about 25% stronger.” You called back before the door swung shut. Outside, you leaned against the wall and heaved a sigh.

You desperately wanted a relationship like Amanda and Martin’s; the ability to express a thought with a hand squeeze or to hold an entire conversation with just looks. You desired a love that could endure the hardships and trials of life with understanding, grace and humour. But with each failing relationship, you were beginning to believe that it didn’t exist, at least not for you. Your last boyfriend had been lovely until you discovered that he was cheating on you with a married woman. His excuse was that you weren’t passionate enough, you didn’t take chances, didn’t want to experience life to the fullest. When you were honest with yourself, it was true you weren’t passionate enough in that relationship because it wasn’t reciprocated. He took no interest in your hobbies and you didn’t enjoy playing second fiddle to video game characters. Near the end, conversations were borderline boring as he droned on about his love of video games and computer systems and the sex was mediocre. Hard to conjure up any sort of feeling when you realized that the man in front of you had the maturity level as sixteen year old.

With a deep breath, you stood up and started towards the bar. As you maneuvered through the crowd, you felt like you were running an obstacle course. Between dodging the vampire thralls with their trays of drinks and elbowing your way through the multitude of princesses, terrible pun costumes, the standard ghouls and the movie characters, you were starting to think that the universe was preventing you from reaching the bar. Finally, you reached the dance floor and could catch a glimpse of the bar’s faint glow through the press of bodies. Steeling yourself, you edged around the dance floor, do your best to avoid the couples grinding together and the groups of single girls set on attracting a mate. You thought you caught a glimpse of Lara and Ben on the dance floor. Ben was leaning in close as Lara was whispering in his ear. A feeling of jealous washed over you followed by disappointment as you watched them dance together. After you pushed away those feelings, you noticed that Ben was taking care to keep a space between himself and Lara, much to her dismay. Ben looked up and your eyes met before you turned and pushed your way through the rest of the bodies preventing you from a drink.

“A whisky, please Sam.” You asked as you slid onto a tall bar stool. “Actually make it a double.”

The man was dress like Ted Danson character from Cheers, Sam Malone. He wore a blue, plaid shirt, gray trousers and brown belt. He had his hair fluffed and combed back into the typical male style of the 80’s. With a crooked smile, he set a scotch glass on the counter in front of you and added some ice.

“I think you are one of the only people who correctly guessed who I was.” He said, taking a large bottle with a purple and gold label from the shelf behind him. You watched as the amber liquid splash over the ice.

“I should. My grandpa watched that show on repeat, especially after it ended.” You replied, picking up the glass and taking a sip, enjoying the subtle flavours of caramel and cinnamon dancing on your tongue.

“Something seems wrong with this picture. You should be out there.” He nodded towards the dance floor, “Not here at the bar.”

You laughed as you turned to look back at the dance floor. “Maybe in a little bit. If I start now, it won’t be long before these shoes start killing my feet.” You swirled your drink as you watched the couple closest to you. If they didn’t find a room soon, sex would be occurring on the dance floor.

“I have always found the dance floor intimidating. I could never tell my right foot from the left not to mention that I almost always end up elbowing someone in the face.” He admitted sheepishly after a moment, bringing your attention back to him. You were about to reply when someone bumped your arm as they climbed onto the stool next to you.

“Hey!” You exclaimed as your drink sloshed dangerously against the edges of the glass.

“Sorry Gorgeous.” He replied in a husky voice. You turned to see Jack Sparrow sitting beside you. He ordered a rum and coke before looking at you. Your eyes widened at the brilliance of his make-up and costume. The dark colour around his eyes brought out the golden flecks in his light brown eyes. The mustache and beard had been expertly applied, looking very real. The beaded dreadlocks were carefully formed and well cared for. The rest of the costume was accurate with very little discrepancies from the real thing.

“Who did your costume? It’s amazing.” You blurted out after an awkward silence.

“I did.” He replied with a smirk at the disbelief on your face. “Who made yours?”

“I have a friend who does costume design with Weta Workshop.” You replied. It was your turn to shock him.

“No kidding. Weta Workshop? How did she manage that?” He angled himself so that he could full see your face.

“It’s a long story.” You replied, taking another sip of your drink.

“I don’t have anywhere to go at the moment.” He leaned against the bar, his brown eyes watching you with interest.

Time began to fly by as you talked with Captain Jack and many drinks were consumed. As the alcohol took effect, you felt more and more at ease with the man drinking beside you. The words you had said to Amanda about your intention of keeping your pants on, dissolved with each sip of whisky and as time passed, you were getting a little more physical.

“Should we take this a little more private?” Captain Jack purred in your ear. With a nod, you slipped off the stool and took his hand, following him through the crowd. Ben loomed out of the darkness, placing his hand on your shoulder and caused you to let out a squeak.

“Ben! There you are! I want you to meet Jack!” You gestured to the pirate, who turned around to see what the holdup was.

“Dennis from the editing department.” He held out a trembling hand under Ben’s scrutinizing glare. Ben took it with a smile that lacked all his usual warmth.

“Good party?” Ben asked.

“Great party.” Dennis replied, shifting uncomfortably. You beamed at both of them.

“Ben! Jack said that he is going to take me on his ship tonight. I have always liked boats, especially pirate ships.” You prattled on until Ben interrupted you.

“How many drinks have you had, little darling?” He asked kindly. You looked at him with confusion as you tried to recall how many glasses you consumed. You held up four fingers on one hand and two on the other.

“How much has she had to drink?” Ben asked Dennis firmly.

“Ummm, some wine, and more than some whisky.” He shrank under Ben’s stare.

“I have to pee.” You announced and started into the crowd. Ben quickly grabbed your hand and you turned to look back at him. Gently, he turned you so that you were facing the opposite direction.

“See that bright yellow sign over there?”

“Uh huh.” You nodded.

“You need to head straight towards that sign, okay sweetheart? Can you manage that on your own?” He asked as if he was talking to a small child.

“Yellow sign. Got it Zorro.” You flashed him a dazzling smile and left for the bathroom. You turned back to see Ben putting an arm around a nervous looking Dennis. When you returned to the spot you had the two men, neither of them were nowhere to be found. Walking around the edge of the room, you noticed a caped figure leaving through the entrance way.

Emboldened by the alcohol, you followed Ben out of the room and into the hallway.

“Ben! Wait up!” You called, moving as fast as your inebriated body would allow. He turned around, curious as to who called his name and his eyes widen when they set upon you. You stumbled as your shoes caught on the hem of your long dress.

“This is why I hate dresses.” You muttered gathering the dress in one arm and exposing a good deal of leg. The room was shifting slightly but using Ben as a focal point kept you walking a straight line. Finally, you reached the man, stopping far closer to him than you normally would have.

“Where are you going?” You asked, looking up into those wondrous eyes. “The party is back in there.” You swung your hand towards the door and the force of your swing, unbalanced you and pitched you forward into his arms. Ben chuckled as he helped you back into an upright position.

“I think you have had enough to drink tonight.” He murmured. His voice was low, laced with humour. You became fixated on his lips, bending and moving to form words. With the alcohol impairing your better judgement, you brought your own lips crashing into his. At first, he froze with the surprise assault but soon his hand was tangled in your long hair, pulling your mouth closer to his. You found yourself pressed against a wall and dimly you wondered how you made over here. Your hands entangled themselves around Ben’s neck, as you felt an urgent need to be even closer. Ben’s free hand travelled up your thigh, leaving a blazing trail behind. Your hips pressed forward as his hand became dangerously close to your ass. You could his desire through the fabric of his black pants. Suddenly Ben wrenched his face from yours, leaving you feeling confused and frustrated. After gently untangling your arms from around his neck, he pulled his hands away and let them fall to his sides. Ben hung his head and avoided your searching look.

“I can’t do it.” He said, panting. Ben looked up and you could see the pained expression on his flushed face. With a sinking feeling, you realized that he didn’t want you at least not in a sexual manner.

“Ben?” You finally asked, fighting the torrent of feelings and the fogginess of alcohol.

“I can’t do this.” He repeated.

“I see.” You said, hanging your head and studying the geometric pattern on the carpet.

“________, look at me.” He requested but you refused, the feeling of humiliation overwhelming your senses.

“Why? I was stupid. You don’t want me.” You said, talking to the floor.

“Don’t want you?” Ben scoffed. “I want to make you scream my name so loud that the neighbours knew who was bedding you. I want to taste every inch of your beautiful body. I want to ravish you right here in this bloody fucking hallway.” The growl in his voice was enough to make you look at him. “You drive me crazy with want but I can’t do this.”

“Why?” You asked, knowing that the tears weren’t far off.

“Because you are drunk and I couldn’t live with the fact that I bedded you in this state.” He replied with a frustrated sigh, running a hand over his hair. The room felt like it was beginning to spin, the pictures in the walls jumping and dancing out of place. Ben was far too close, and the air felt far too thin as your stomach began to flip flop. Pushing Ben away, you fled down the hallway and towards the entrance.

“________! Wait!” Ben called from behind you. A shoe slipped off your foot during your flight but you couldn’t care. Once you reached the wide, wooden door, you pushed it open and stepped out into the cool night air. You berated yourself as you paced back and forth in an uneven manner.

“What the hell was I thinking?” You muttered, trying to keep the contents of your stomach down. “You just kissed a man you bloody worked with and he rejected you. He doesn’t want the likes of you.” Tears prickled behind your eyelids as you slowed to a stop. The door opened and you didn’t have the courage to face the man who you had just royally embarrassed yourself in front of.

“_________,” Ben said softly as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Please let me explain.”

You held up your hand as your stomach heaved, effectively silencing him. You limped over the raised garden and promptly vomited in it. Ben moved beside you and pulled your hair out of the way, allowing the cool air to get at your face. With a groan, you straightened, your muscles aching from cramping. You wiped your mouth with the back of a gloved hand.

“I’m so sorry Ben.” You said quietly.

“Come Cinderella. Time to get you home.” Ben said as he hailed a cab, your shoe in his upraised hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you thought. I enjoy reading your comments and look forward to it.


	11. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and feedback I have received since I began writing this story, I love hearing from you! I didn't realize how long it took me to write this chapter and for that I apologize. I got busy planning a friend's baby shower and my trip to England in the summer. See Notes at Bottom

You rolled over with an audible groan as a Dub-step version of the Sherlock Theme song sounded. You head was pounding dully; a testament to the amount of alcohol you had to drink the night before.  Grabbing your phone, you held it close to your face, attempting to read the number that had deemed it appropriate to wake you from your slumber. You blinked, trying to get your eyes to focus on the screen.

 _Who bloody calls this early in the morning?_ You questioned before recognizing Paula’s number.

“Paula?” You rested the phone on the side of your face and attempted to snuggle back under the covers. “Why are calling me?”

“Why am I calling you?” Paula repeated the question. “Three reasons Ducky. One, you disappeared from the party without saying good-bye. Rude by the way. Two, Ben disappeared from the party around the same time. A little suspicious, if you ask me and three, you promised to help me with the gigantic wedding that I have to do today.”

“The wedding is in the afternoon. It’s only morning.” You mumbled into the phone.

“Is there sunlight in your room?”

You pulled the covers off your head and squinted in the bright light. You groaned and retreated back under the covers.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Now what does it mean when there is sunlight in your room?” Paula questioned.

You didn’t respond, trying to figure out the answer to Paula’s question.

 _If the sun is in my room, it means it is in the garden as well. The garden is on the south side of the house._ The dull ache in your head became more pronounced as you force your brain to work.

“I take it you have a lovely hangover this morning.” Paula commented dryly, “Do you want me to help you out?”

Suddenly the answer came and you sat up quickly, throwing the covers off in your haste. “Shit!” You exclaimed. “It’s the afternoon!” The sun assaulted your eyes and the sudden movement brought the headache to the forefront. You squeezed your eyes shut, praying that you would be able to function enough to get ready.

“There’s the genius I know!” Paula said sarcastically. “You have an hour before I come to pick you up. Then you can tell me all about your night after your disappearance.” 

A small beep indicated that Paula had hung up and you fell back down on your pillows with a sigh. After a moment, you rolled over and stared at the bedside table. There was a glass of water and two ibuprofen capsules along with a neatly written note.

_I don’t envy the headache you will have when you wake up in the morning darling but hopefully these will be of service to you._

_-Ben_

Carefully sitting up, you took both pills with a large gulp of water. With determination, you stood up and staggered to the bathroom, leaning on the walls for support. Oddly, the bathroom smelled of bleach and you wrinkled your nose at the strong scent. By the time you managed to pull off your clothes, the hangover was in full swing, making you feel like you were repeatedly being run over by a bus. Stepping into the lukewarm shower, you scrubbed away the remnants of last night’s make-up and hairspray. Once that was done, you tried to recall the events that had occurred after talking to the Jack Sparrow look-a-like. Glimpses of memories came bubbling to the surface, each hazy from your alcohol-induced state.

_Talking about a pirate ship and Jack offering to give you a tour._

_Zorro? Popping out of the crowd and sending you in the direction of the bathroom._

_Following Ben into the hallway and resulted in a swirl of emotions and fog._

_Vomiting into a garden while Ben held your hair back._

_Climbing into a taxi before promptly climbing back out to vomit again._

_Fuck_ , You thought, _What happened with Ben and how the hell did I get back home and in bed wearing some semblance of pyjamas?_ _Unless…_ With a groan, you rested your head on the tiled wall. _Ben must have helped. If I can’t remember getting home, there was no way I could have gotten out of that corset without help. Bloody fucking Hell._

Without hesitation, you turned the water to cold and gasped as freezing water began to pelt your body. It wasn’t the nicest feeling but it helped clear away the last of the grogginess you felt. Once thoroughly chilled, you climbed out the shower and immediately wrapped a large towel around yourself and a smaller one around your hair. With a quick glance at the mirror to make sure you had removed all of the eye make-up, you headed downstairs to the kitchen.

Filling the kettle with water, you searched the cupboards for your tea infuser. This monster headache called for a special blend that was affectionately known by Paula as the Hangover Blend. It helped settle the stomach enough to eat some food which in turn helped decrease the headache. Amidst your rummaging, you heard a sound akin to a groan. You froze in place, straining to hear over the blood pounding in your ears. The sound came again, a bit quieter this time, accompanied by rustling. Quietly, you reached above your head and took down a cast iron pan from its hook. You slinked toward the living room door, one hand clutching your towel, the other hand gripping the handle of the pan tightly. Nudging the door open with the pan, you slipped into the room and leaned up against the wall. You moved quietly towards the couch, pan raised high in the air, ready to give the invader a headache to match your own. But the couch was empty although it showed evidence of having recently been slept on. A crumbled blanket lay carelessly over the arm and the pillow was still warm.

_Who the hell is in my house?_

The sound of the toilet flushing pulled your attention from the couch and you peeked out into the hallway. When you saw the hallway empty, you tiptoed across the hall and stood beside the bathroom door, the pan now held in both hands, ready to swing. The door knob turned slowly and you drew a breath to steady yourself.

“Hiya!” You shouted as you swung the pan with all your strength at the intruder, intending catching him in the stomach but you misjudged your swing and only grazed the man. He grunted in surprise and fell back into the bathroom. Stepping in the doorway, you held your weapon in front of you, ready to swing at the first sign of movement.

“I surrender!” The man cried, his hands emphasizing his words. Immediately, you recognized the mess of black curls and the pan clattered to the floor.  You took a step back in shock, your hands grabbing at the hem of your towel and your mind racing through what just occurred. Finally, you recovered as Ben looked up through his dark eyelashes, his eyes glinting with humour. 

“I will accept your surrender scallywag but there is a price for your release.” You said sternly, stepping into the doorway of the bathroom.

“Name your price.” He said, looking up at you from his crouched position on the bathroom floor.

“Breakfast.” You said simply.

“And if I don’t agree to those terms?” Ben drawled, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

“Then you shall remain a prisoner in these cramped quarters. What say you?”

Ben scratched his chin as if mulling over the terms but you watched as his bright eyes flicked towards the frying pan that lay on the floor in front of him.  His hand slowly inched towards your discarded weapon.

“I warn you sir, only those deemed worthy are able to wield the mighty weapon of Roin.” You cautioned as his fingers closed around the handle. Ben looked at you with a playful grin and tried to lift the frying pan from the floor. He grunted and strained but the frying pan didn’t move and the smile faded from his face. You couldn’t help but grin as Ben played along with your little game. Your last boyfriend would have either argued that he was worthy or tell you that you were silly for saying such things.

 _Rich coming from the man who wasted his life in front of a television, playing this quest and retrieving that lost object._ Shaking away that thought, you looked back to Ben as he fell on his knees.

“I am not worthy of such a mighty weapon.” He cried in defeat.  “Do with me what you will.” Ben hung his head, falling silent.

 _Those are dangerous words._ You thought. An image of your hands buried in Ben’s curls, pulling his head back so you could see his brilliant eyes as his long fingers ghosted over the back of your legs, climbing higher and... _Stop, stop, stop! Get a hold of yourself!_ You tightened your grip on the edge of your towel as if ensuring that you weren’t going to act upon your idea.

“Hmm.” You tilted your head thoughtfully as you felt your cheeks flush, “I will have to decide over a cup of tea. Would you care to join me, brigand?”

“Oh aye. To have tea with a fearsome lady such as yourself is a dream come true.”  Ben laughed, getting to his feet.  You arched an eyebrow at him, a small smile bloomed on his lips. “Even we dastardly villains have dreams though one does not often dare to dream so high.” You scoffed, earning an offended look from Ben. “Do you think I jest?”

Your eyes widened, “Not at all. I am merely amazed that a brigand such as yourself learned to speak with such flattering words.”

“You pick up certain…” He paused, as if searching for the right word, “skills in trades such as mine.”

“I have no doubt.” You said dryly. “Come sir. My belly aches with hunger and my head even more so. I will just go put some clothes on and I will meet you in the kitchen.” You said, making for the stairs. “Can I trust you not to steal anything while I am gone?”

“Cross my heart.” Ben made a cross over his heart and flashed you a mischievous grin as he heading to the kitchen. 

You dressed as quickly as your headache would allow which meant a little faster than a snail.

_I am never going to drink on an empty stomach again._

There was absolutely no bending over you discovered after several failed attempts trying to put on your socks.  You threw the socks across the room in frustration.

  _Fuck it. I’ll wear sandals._

Finally, you made your way downstairs and found Ben pouring two cups of tea; a plate of toast sat buttered on the counter in front of him. You stood in the doorway for a moment, admiring the muscles shifting under the pale skin on his forearms. The sun streaming through the large bay window picked out the auburn tones in his dark curls and highlighted the faint stumble along his chin.

_How does he manage to look so good all the time? He could be covered in dirt, wearing a garbage bag and still look amazing._

As if realizing your wondering stare, Ben looked up, a Cheshire grin on his lips. “Breakfast is served, my lady. I apologize for the meager table; there was nothing but bread in the pantry.”

You climbed onto the stool and pulled one of the mugs towards you. “This is a fine feast. Now let us see if your toast making skills are as good as your pretty words.”

Ben chuckled as he picked up the other mug and took a sip. He made a face of distaste and swallowed with a grimace. “Gods, what is this tea and how do you drink this stuff?” He choked out.

“Paula calls it the Hangover Blend and HanHHHHANsijfbHwith a shitload of sugar.” You replied, adding two heaping spoons of sugar into your tea and stirring. Ben chuckled as he set his tea on the counter and reached for a piece of toast. An easy silence fell between you but the events of last night still bothered you as you tried to decipher the fogginess surrounding them.

“A quid for your thoughts.” Ben’s quiet voice interrupted your thoughts.

 You swirled the tea in your cup, watching the tea slosh up against the sides. “I am trying to figure out what happened last night. I remember a drinking contest with a pirate, Zorro directing me to the bathroom and after that, it gets a little hazy. I do remember vomiting in a garden and on the sidewalk.” You said, feeling rather ashamed that you couldn’t remember. You looked up to Ben’s face reddened as he looked just as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Er… well…” Ben stammered.

“Why do you seem nervous about telling me? What did I do?” When Ben flushed even darker, your eyes widened, “We didn’t… I didn’t… I am such an idiot.” You hung your head.

“No, no, no! We didn’t do anything together. I mean we kissed but,” He stammered as you groaned and placed your head on the counter. Ben took a steadying breath and pushed on, “We kissed and then you got sick; quite sick. So I took you home and got you into some more comfortable clothing once you started vomiting again. I stayed because I was afraid that you might have gotten alcohol poisoning.”

“At least tell me I did something funny to make up for all the misery I put you through.” You groaned. You looked up when Ben’s laugh filled the kitchen.

“That you did darling. Once you finally stopped getting sick, I helped you into bed. Just as I pulled the covers up, you took my hand with a grin and said ‘I knew you couldn’t resist Sherlock. You always had a dramatic flair. Now take off the mask and deduce me Sherlock. Deduce me like one of you clients.” Ben wiped a tear from his eye. 

“I really said that?” You asked incredulously.

Ben held up three fingers in a salute. “Word for word. You wouldn’t let me go until I did. I can’t say when the last time I laughed so hard was. You also muttered something about corsets should have been used as medieval torture tools.”

“Have you ever put one of those things on? They are a pain getting on and ridiculously hard to get off even when sober.” You asked loudly.

“You’re telling me.” Ben agreed, “I had a bloody hard time trying to getting the blasted thing undone.” Although you had been expected something like that, it did not stop your cup from slipping slightly in your hand. “Not that I saw anything.” He quickly added, “Promise.”

You studied the pattern of blue and white swirls on the counter, trying to gather you thoughts and ease the torrent of feelings that had come to the surface.  Gratitude and embarrassment were at the forefront; both feelings were easy to explain. Ben made sure that you had made it home after you had vomited everywhere as well as assisting you out of your corset and into some more comfortable clothing. After putting you to bed, he had stayed to ensure that you would survive the night. You had also been blackout drunk and vomiting in front of the man that frequently filled your thoughts.  Underneath those emotions, caution and uneasiness bubbled quietly. You were unsure of where this was going and you didn’t want to wreck the easy friendship that you had. As you had found out, relationships were hard and you weren’t sure that you were ready to get back into one, especially one with a celebrity. Then again, you couldn’t deny the deliciously warm feeling that blossomed in your stomach when he caught your eye and smiled or the heightened senses when he was nearby.

“So does your tattoo having a meaning behind it?” Ben asked, changing the subject.

You panicked for a moment, trying to think of which tattoo he was talking about. He must have sensed your alarm and clarified, “The one on your foot. It was rather hard to read upside down.” You let out a breathe you didn’t realize you had been holding and gave him a small smile.

“Don’t underestimate yourself.” You said, quoting the words neatly written on the top of your foot. It was written so you could read it and there was a small daisy lying on its side, the stem underlining the phrase. “I got it as I went through a rebellious stage, my mom had forbidden any sort thing that would mark me forever and one particularly night, I entered a tattoo parlour and came out with those words written on my foot.” You remember the bitter argument that followed your mom’s discovery of the ink, your expression hardening.

*******

You slipped back into the house and removed the book you used to prop open the window, your heart in your throat as you listened for any movement. Straightening from your crouch, you tossed your jacket on chair by your bed followed by your worn, black t-shirt and jeans. Your mom hated when you threw clothes on the floor and when she came in the morning there would be words exchanged. Slipping off your sock, you lifted the bandage covered the black ink across the top of your foot. It bloody hurt but rather than making two appointments, you had urged the tattoo artist finish the tattoo and despite his protests, he did. With a content sigh, you put bandage back down and put the sock back on your foot. Your mom wouldn’t question you sleeping with socks on; your feet were often cold and this was a common occurrence. Laying down on your bed, you stared at the shadows dancing on the ceiling, hypnotizing you with their languid movements. Just as you felt your eyelid droop, you whispered goodnight to your Gran and fell asleep.

The next morning you could hear your mother bustling about the hallway, cleaning up the imaginary dust off the tables.

5…4…3…2…1.

The door opened and you quickly squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you had been fast enough. If your mom noticed your eyes had been open, it would have started a lecture on how one should not laze about in bed, especially since the sun had been up hours ago.

“Time to get up ___________.” Your mom frowned at the open curtains, “Breakfast has come and gone and you have dance in couple hours.” Her frown deepened at the neatly piled clothes on the chair.  You watched her through partially closed eyes before groaning and rolling over to face the wall.

“Honey,” She began, “I find it strange that your curtains are open seeing how you love to sleep in complete darkness and when did you start picking up after yourself?”

 _Shit. She only uses that when she is angry or suspicious or both._  You quickly thought of an excuse for both discrepancies. Fortunately, you had left the book you been using to prop the window open on the window seat.

“Last night, I was reading by the window and I noticed that the stars were so pretty. I must have stared at them for a while because next thing I knew, I fell off the window seat and onto the floor.” You lied.

_Hopefully that will explain any noises they heard last night._

“And the clothes?” Your mom asked, her eyebrow arched. You rolled back over so she could see the truth in your eyes.

“I know how much you hate me throwing my clothes on the floor so I put them on the chair before crawling into bed.” You said honestly. Your mom narrowed her eyes as if trying to see if you were mocking her.  You held the stare, knowing that if you looked away, it would confirm in her head that you were guilty of something, even if she didn’t know what it was.

“Up you get. Your dad is driving you to dance today.” She said briskly.

“Can’t I drive myself?” You asked. You mom fixed you with a look and was about to open her mouth when you threw the blankets back and got out of bed. “Nevermind.”

Dressed and fed, you threw your bag into the back of the pickup and climbed into the cab.

“G’morning Half-pint.” Your dad affectionately greeted you.

“Afternoon Pops.” You returned the greeting to the burly, bearded man sitting in the driver’s seat. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “What has you so chipper on this warm, summer day?”

“I heard an interesting story this morning at the garage.” He replied, putting the truck in gear and backing out of the laneway.

“What about?” You asked cautiously.

“Oh y’know, typical story of a teenager breaking curfew and coming in the wee hours of the morning. Nothing too out of the ordinary.” He replied, glancing at you with merriment dancing in his green eyes; watching your reaction.

“Well that seems like a boring story. I thought you said this would be interesting.” You quipped, wondering where this was going.

“Hold your horses, girlie. I haven’t got to the best part. The most interesting part is that the teenager came home with a forbidden tattoo and was hoping to hide it from their parents.” Your dad finished as he turned the corner.

“Pray tell, which teenager is the town so mercilessly gossiping about?” You asked, donning a southerner’s accent.

“Rylie.” Came the answer and you slumped back in your seat with relief. Rylie, your best friend, hadn’t ratted you out and you doubted he would. Rylie would take your secret to the grave just as you would his.

“So where is it Half-pint?” He asked as you came to a stop at a red light.

“What?” You stammered, thrown off guard at his question. You realized that you weren’t the clear just yet. It didn’t take much to fool your mother but your dad on the other hand, was quick as a whip and nothing went by him.

“It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. If Rylie got one it was because you didn’t want to go by yourself.” He said as he eased the truck through the intersection. “I figure that you went out of your window around 11 when your mother went to bed. Rylie met you at the main road and the two of you went into town. Judging by how long you slept, you came back around 4.” You sighed and looked out the window, knowing that you should probably tell him or at least confirm his suspicions.

“Promise not to tell mom?” You asked, turning back and looking at him. A quiet chuckle followed your request and you knew that your secret was safe.

“Promise.” He answered, drawing an x over his heart.

“It’s on my foot in a way that I can read it. I got the words that Gran always said to me.” You informed him. “There’s a daisy beside it.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself.” Your dad murmured. “Your Gran knew what she was talking about.” He sighed, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.  You felt the underlying sadness come bubbling to surface and patted your dad on the shoulder.

“I miss her daddy.” You whispered, tears forming in your eyes.

“I do too sweetheart. I do too.”

The days turned to weeks and the weeks faded gave away to months and still your mom was none the wiser. You were careful to keep the tattoo covered any time there was a chance your mom would see it; at the pool, at the lake, when you went outside.  As the months past, you grew a little more careless and one day, your secret came out.

“WHAT IS THAT??!!” Your mom screeched and several parents turned to look at the pair of you.

“What does it look like?” You replied, irritated that she was the cause of another scene in the middle of the dance studio. It was bad enough that she came to watch the dress rehearsal but to march across the floor to where you danced with your partner and pull you away into the hallway like some naughty child. Your dance teacher had become use to your mom’s interruptions over the years and took it in stride. She smoothly called the set of dance partners and shot you a look of sympathy as you were dragged from the room.

“I thought I strictly forbid tattoos.” She seethed, lowering her voice to a dangerous whisper. Usually, it was enough to make you compliant and bow to her wishes but today, you were feeling rather mutinous.

“And yet here one is.” You challenged. Silently, you curse your choice not to wear a bit of foundation over top of the tattoo but your mom had said that Michael was going to pick you up.

“Don’t you dare sass me young lady.” Your mom hissed, her eyes like daggers boring into you, daring you to talk back.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You replied, rolling your eyes and turning back to the door of the dance studio.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She said a little louder, drawing the waning attention of the parent and children in the hallway back to you.

“I am going back in there to perfect my dance with Carter so we can win because I know if I don’t, there’s not a place for me at home.” You replied just as loudly. You wrenched open the door and stepped into the studio, noting the shocked faces of the adults in the hallway. Taking your place in Carter’s arms, you caught one last glimpse of your mother’s face as she stormed from the building.

*********

“So it was a typically teenage rebellion.” Ben commented, his eyes intently watching your face. You scoffed quietly at his words, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips.

“No.” You replied. “I got it to remind me of the words my grandma told me every time I was upset or having difficulties at school or disagreements with my mom. I picked those words so every time I laced up my dance shoes or got dressed in the morning, it reminded me that Gran believed in me and I should too.” You paused for a moment, thinking of Gran whispering those words as you fell asleep. “The daisy only emphasizes the words.”

“How so?” Ben asked, his curiosity clear in his voice.

“A daisy is often overlooked because it deemed too simple; too plain but there is a quiet charm in their white petals. People try to change the colour to suit their needs but as soon as the coloured water is removed, the flower reverts to its most natural form. A daisy is resilient and it reminds me that no matter the trouble, I will need to be true to myself.” You finished and gave Ben a lopsided grin. “That and it’s my favourite flower.”

“So I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you and your mother don’t see eye to eye.”

“How could you tell?” You inquired sarcastically.

Ben drew a deep breath as he would if he was playing Sherlock, “You have mentioned very little about your mother despite the numerous occasions that you have talked about your family.  When you do mention her, you get a bitter look on your face and though you do not speak negatively about her, you are not overly positive either. There are very few family photos that include your mother in them and even fewer still that have both of you smiling in them. The letter on the counter suggests that your mother is extending out the olive branch of peace yet you have not responded, indicated by the paper with the scratched out salutations.”  Finished, Ben took in a large breath and looked at you with piercing blue-green eyes; looking proud of his deduction skills.

“You read my mail?” You cried, feeling your privacy was being invaded. You could feel the anger begin to bubble under the surface and your head began to pound harder.

 _What right does he have?_ You thought amidst the anger and pain.

“You insisted that I read it, waving the papers in my face.” Ben replied, a hard edge underlying his tone. Clearly he did not expect you to be upset as you were and he did not like being accused.

“I was drunk!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air.

“You were persistent!” Ben shot back, his voice now holding a hint of humour, “One can only resist a drunk woman pleading with him for so long when she compliments his voice so prettily. At least I presume that ‘your voice sounds like a jaguar growling inside of cello’ was meant as a compliment and not an insult” Ben laughed.

You opened your mouth to respond but there were no words to reply to his statement. The anger abated in the wake of Ben’s words. That was something that you had only discussed with Paula after shooting had finished for season one of Sherlock. Folding your hands in your lap, you couldn’t help but grin at the man laughing before you.

“I am never getting that drunk again. I can’t tell if you are making this up or not.” You stated.

“I do believe that is the best part,” He said with a wink, “Although I have been told that the majority of what comes out of an intoxicated person is the truth.” Ben chuckled.

“Fantastic.” You muttered, rolling your eyes and wondering what else you had told him. The front door opened and you could hear footsteps in the hallway as well as the rustling of a couple bags.  Ben looked towards the kitchen door with his eyebrow raised in a question. You shrugged nonchalantly and took a gulp of your tea before finally taking a piece of toast.

“Are you expecting someone?” Ben asked when you didn’t seem too concerned about the person in your house. You took a bite of toast and nodded as Paula appeared in the kitchen door.

“She’s expecting me,” Paula replied entering the kitchen, “Though I was not expecting you.” She shot you a surprised look and again you shrugged your shoulders as you continued to eat your toast. “I was also expecting to see _________ wearing shades and a blanket cape yet here she is dressed and ready to go. You are a miracle worker Mr. Cumberbatch. It’s amazing what a night of partying and long overdue sex can do for a girl.”

You choked on the bit of tea you just swallowed as Ben’s eyes widened in shock.  He gave you a surprised glance, his eyebrows disappearing into his dark curls. Paula took in the display, very unimpressed before dropping her bags and throwing her hands in the air. “SERIOUSLY!”

“She was piss drunk. I-“ Ben began.

“Paula! That was-“ You spoke over him.

“Enough!” Paula held up her hands and you both fell silent. She turned to Ben, pointing a menacing finger at him. “You, sir, are going to take that girl on a bloody date and it might do you good to stop being a gentleman for once and sleep with her.”

“Paula. You can’t…” You started but Paula interrupted, her finger now pointing at you.

“And you are going to grow a pair and go on said date with him. Then if you are both so inclined, you are going to home with him and satisfy that itch you have been harbouring for years now.” Paula looked from Ben to you with a serious look on her face. “Am I understood?”

“Yes sir.” Ben replied, snapping to attention and saluting her. You looked at Ben and wondered how he could find this situation amusing. Paula looked at you and arched an eyebrow. You opened your mouth to agrue but thought better of it, nodding meekly.

“Good. Now we need to go. Grab your tea and we’ll be off.” Paula nodded, stashing her bags to the side and exited the room. You could see the gauzy, blue fabric of Paula’s costume peeking out from the bag. Apparently, Aladdin took the offer to discover a whole new world last, which would explain her chipper mood. You smirked at the thought as you poured tea into a travel mug and Ben picked up the remaining toast, headed to the door. Locking up the house, you started to head to the dark grey car parked on the curb.

“________.” Ben called your name, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned around to look at him, taking in the loose white shirt, the toast in his hand, the curly mop of hair, his blue-green eyes, and cupid bow lips; ones that you had the pleasure of tasting last night even if you didn’t remember it.  

_I could look at that every day and never grow tired of it._

“Yeah Ben?”

“Would you do me the honour of coming on a date with me?” Although his words came out smoothly, he still looked a bit nervous to ask you.

“How’s tomorrow sound?” You asked, giving him a reassuring smile.

“You don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable.” Ben said softly, his voice no louder than a whisper. You felt a small smile tug at your lips. Carefully you climbed the 3 steps that separated you and took his hand. Ben’s hand was warm despite the chill in the afternoon air.

“I would never forgive myself if I didn’t” You replied and Ben searched your face for any trace of regret or dishonesty in your eyes. Suddenly, it was like the sun bursting through the clouds and a genuine smile broke on Ben face. Your smile widened to match his and like two teenagers who just discovered each other, you loathed to let go of his hand.

“Hey! We have to go!” Paula shouted from the car and you reluctantly let go of Ben’s hand.

“Until tomorrow little darling.” Ben called after you as you ran to Paula’s vehicle.  You offered him a large grin and a wave. As the car pulled away from the from the curb, you turned back to Paula,

“I’m waiting.” Paula said, her eyes on the road, watching the car in front of her.

“Well keep waiting.” You smirked, looking out of your window.

 

Ben watched Paula’s little car pull away from the curb and a smile lit his face as he stood on the steps. It felt like an eternity since he had wanted to ask you out but was unsure of how to. Fortune intervened in the form of Martin’s make-up artist, Paula. The way she threw everything in the open, made it easier for Ben to ask and for that, he was grateful.

_God bless Paula and her loud mouth._

He thought about the previous night and the smile widened. Despite the vomiting and the emotional roller coaster ride, he had enjoyed spending time with you; the way you smiled at him sleepily, your unguarded mind and your ability to joke with him, the beautiful skin of your back, that damned corset. He held felt like a child unwrapping a present on Christmas morning and despite his intention of not looking, Ben caught a glimpse of the the tattoo that followed the curves of your ribs. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Ben made two calls, one to Martin and one to his agent.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all my lovely readers,  
> I need some help. If you have any dates idea that you would like explored, I would be happy to write something up for it.  
> If you enjoyed the chapter/story, let me know what you thought with a comment below.


	12. Pants Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update and I apologize that the date hasn't happened yet but it will! I am not going to lie that I lost a bit of steam when I was writing this when i found out that Ben had gotten engaged and then married. It just sat wrong with me to write about a married man but I realize that this is a fictional world I have created and I will try to be more diligent to finish this story.

The wedding party was just finishing up their hair when you arrived with Paula and other than a couple special requests; the make-up went on without a hitch. When Paula started talking about her day job, she mentioned that the pair of you worked on the sets of Doctor Who and Sherlock. You gave her a warning glance when the bride’s eyes lit up in recognition of the shows.

“Do you work with Benedict Cumberbatch?” She asked, leaning forward in excitement. “He is just a dream wrapped up in a trench coat.”

“We…” Paula opened her mouth and you quickly cut in.

“We work with the extras mainly.” You commented, sweeping a large brush across the bride’s cheekbone. “But every once in a while, we get to see him around the set.”

“Yeah, his make-up artist just adores him.” Paula added after she instructed the bridesmaid in front of her to close her eyes. “Personally, I think that she fancies him.”

You shot Paula a mutinous glare but she had turned to retrieve a mascara wand from her case.

“Does he like her? Are they dating?” Another bridesmaid piped up from the doorway. Despite the fact that the wedding was starting in a matter of hours and there could be other things these women could worrying about, the bride and her attendants were completely transfixed on Paula and her gossip.

“From what I observe when I see them around the set is that he is completely interested in her but she is oblivious to all the signs.” Paula continued as your mouth hardened into a firm frown. Ben’s life along with your own was private and Paula shouldn’t be talking about it to complete strangers.

“Poor girl. If it were me, I climb him like a tree.” The bride commented and you were severely tempted to sabotage her make-up.

 _Ben is not a piece of meat or a prize to be won. He is an extremely talented human being and deserves to be thought as such._ You thought angrily, turning away in case someone noticed your expression. Putting up the pretense that you were digging in your case for something, you took several deep breaths and let them out slowly in attempt to calm yourself. Paula seemed to pick up on your darkening mood and change the topic to the antics that often occur while filming.

“The florists are here and they want to know where the vases are going to go.” The mother of the bride popped her head into the room. “The caterers are also here and want to go over the schedule.”

“I thought this is why we hired a planner. Can’t she go over everything with them?” The bride went to touch her face and you quickly intercepted her hand.

“I get that this is stressful but please don’t touch your face. You’ll smudge your make-up and there won’t be someone here to fix it.” You said, as the bride lowered her hand. She had a thoughtful look on her face as you readied the spray to set her make-up.

“If you don’t have any other plans tonight, I would be thrilled if you could stay and do touch-ups throughout the night.” She looked to Paula who glanced at you before agreeing.

The rest of the night past uneventfully other than a couple of drunken groomsmen taking a dip in the fountain outside the hotel and causing enough ruckus that police showed up and issued several tickets. By the time you got home and climbed in your bed, the clock read 3:48. With a sleepy glance about the room, the last thing you remembered was being glad that you didn’t have to work tomorrow.

**********

“Good morning Sunshine!” An overly loud and chipper voice startled you awake as the blankets were stripped off your bed. Your body initiated the fetal position in attempt to retain the escaping heat. Carefully opening your eyes, you saw Paula standing over you with a bright smile on her face.

“Up and at ‘em, sleepy head.” She said cheerfully. “You’ve got a big day ahead of you and I have to attempt to have you looking all shiny and new.”  

“I seriously regret giving you my house key.” You grumbled as you rolled away from her and hugging the pillow beside you. Paula didn’t respond but you could hear your closet door opening and hangers being moved. A pair of jeans landed at your feet, soon joined by a long sleeved shirt and scarf.

“Why are you getting me up at this ungodly hour? Is the sun even up yet?” You called over your shoulder as she moved on to your dresser.

“When was the last time you bought some new panties?” She said with a hint of disdain in her voice. You rolled back over to find Paula looking at a pair of conservative black boy shorts. “This looks like something a nun would wear when she was feeling wild.”

“Paula, why are you in my house, rifling through my underwear drawer?”  You asked as the underwear was tossed onto the bed along with a matching bra and socks.

“Sometimes you blend in so well and other days you can tell that you came from the colonies.” Paula slid the drawer shut and looked at you with mild disappointment.

“Pants, underwear, they both reside under trousers or pants as we say in the colonies.” You muttered, tugging the blanket back over your head.

“You are going on a date tonight with a man you have been crushing on for years and you can’t fathom why I am going through your pants drawer.” Paula pinched the bridge of her nose with an audible sigh, “This going to be more work than I thought.”

“Did you just hear what you said? You sound like five different levels of crazy.” You asked, finally sitting up and looking at you friend.

“I am just a concerned friend who wants you to finally get laid.” Paula replied, “Now get dressed. We have some shopping to do.” You groaned loudly as the pair of socks Paula tossed hit you in the forehead. 

“But the sun isn’t even up yet.” You protested once more. Paula marched over the curtains and threw them open, allowing the daylight into your room. Your eyes narrowed at the sudden onslaught of sunlight

“Once again, it’s the afternoon and you have slept in. You date is in a couple of hours and your wardrobe is a desperate need of an update. I expect to see you downstairs in fifteen minutes. That gives you enough time to get dressed and go to the bathroom. Am I clear?” Paula fixed you with a stern look when you didn’t answer, your eyes still adjusting to the brightness.

“Crystal clear.” You muttered as you climbed out of bed. “Warden.”

“Perfect. See you downstairs.” Paula flashed you a smile and left the room.

You looked at the clothes on the bed before moving back to the closet to grab some yoga pants and grey t-shirt. As you pulled your shirt over your head, a white light blinking on your phone caught your attention.  You had some unread text messages, a voice message and a missed call. Turning on the screen, you saw that several texts were from Paula wondering if you were up yet. There was text from Martin that read ‘Finally’ and one from Ben.

‘Good morning J I hope you don’t mind that I got your number from Martin. I will be around to pick you up at 7pm.’

You felt you lips curl up in a smile and the feeling of giddiness wash over you. After quickly replying, you hurried to the bathroom, knowing that if you weren’t downstairs soon, Paula would make your shopping experience fifty times worse. Hurrying down the stairs, you heard Paula moving around in the kitchen and went to find out what she was up to.

“Ta-da!” You entered the kitchen to find Paula pouring steaming tea into two travel mugs. She looked up from what she was doing and a slight frown adorned her features.

“What happened to the outfit I picked out for you?” She asked with a disapproving tone.  She opened the fridge door and the frown deepened as she studied the contents.

“If I have to go shopping for a new outfit than I am going to be comfortable.” You replied stirring in some sugar to one of the travel mugs.

“Where is your food?” Paula asked as she straightened from peering into the fridge.

You glanced at her, “Define food.”

“Oh you know, edible stuff that usually inhabits fridge and cupboards. You can eat it.” The sarcasm in Paula voice was strong.

“Must have decided that my cupboards were unfit for habitation.” You replied. Paula stared at you and after a few seconds a smile crept onto her face and try as you might to remain serious, you felt your lips curl up in response.

“You are utterly ridiculous.” She finally said.

“That’s why we’re friends. Not everyone can handle your sarcasm and my utter ridiculousness.” You replied, heading for the door.

********

Once you reached the mall, Paula pulled you towards an information kiosk to determine which stores would be the best ones to accomplish the task of clothing you in appropriate clothing.

“Do you know where he is taking you tonight?” Paula asked as she examined the list of clothing stores.

“No?” You replied hesitantly, knowing that Paula may react in a volatile manner. “But I am going to ask. Right now.” You added quickly, pulling out your phone.

“Nope.” She said with a gleeful smile that made you a bit uneasy. “This gives me a challenge. We will embark on a fashion quest journeying through the mall to find you an outfit that you can dress up or dress down depending on the place.” Paula cracked her knuckles and studied the list one last time.  “Are you ready to begin?”

You nodded and with a sigh, followed Paula reluctantly as she set off at a quick pace to the first of the stores on her list. The mall was crowded with afternoon shoppers and you were having a hard time keeping track of your friend as she weaved through the groups of moms and strollers, preteens with make-up that made you cringe and slow walking couples with their fingers intertwined with each other. An image of you and Ben walking through the mall, holding hands flashed before your eyes and you felt a twinge of nervousness. You shouldn’t be imagining a future relationship when you hadn’t even gone on a date yet. There was a chance that everything could go terribly wrong and then where would that leave you? Asking to work on another set or finding a new job because it was easier than having to deal with the aftermath of failed date. 

You hadn’t realized you had stopped until you felt a hand grab yours and pull you in the direction of a lingerie store.

“Paula. What are we doing here?” You squawked as Paula headed straight for the pants bins. You stood awkwardly off to the side, praying that she wouldn’t make you try anything on.

“What do you think we are doing in here?” She tossed over her shoulder. “The best make-up needs a good foundation and the best outfits need sexy things to go underneath them.” She pulled out a leopard printed thong and held it up. “Don’t just stand there. Start looking through the bins.”

“What is wrong with what I have now?” You asked, hoping that she didn’t intend on handing the thong to you. Leopard print just wasn’t your style nor were thongs or a lot of things that this store seemed to be selling. You reached into the nearest bin with the pretense of looking for some pants.

Paula’s hands froze and disbelief wormed its way through her features. “You seriously didn’t just ask me that. You are more conservative than my grandmother when it comes to undergarments. Honestly girl! Live your life a little. Be sexy!” She said loudly.

You glanced around the room, your face red with embarrassment. “I don’t need to know about your grandmother’s pants collection Paula and Ben doesn’t need to know about mine.”

“That man is under orders not to be a gentleman on this date.” Paula started, holding up a teal thong with lace trim.

“He will be.” You interrupted as a ball of nerves tightened at you core. It had been a long time since you had been with anyone intimately and you didn’t know if you were quite ready for that again. “Besides I would rather be comfortable than spend the day pulling a thong out of my butt crack.”

“Even if he is, Ben is eventually going to find out what lurks in that dark cavern called your pants drawer and then he will have to decide whether he wants a wild nun or conservative grandmother.” Paula said, turning to look at you. “Here’s the deal. You can either pick out some pants that you like or I will and I doubt you will be as happy with my choices.”

With a loud sigh, you returned to your task of finding pants that you liked and ones that Paula deemed sexy enough. When Paula had moved away to look at the bras, you pulled out your phone and sent a quick text to Martin.

‘Please, please rescue me. Paula is holding me captive at the mall.’

Paula reached over your shoulder and pulled your phone out of you hand.

“Hey!” You protested, making a swipe for it. Paula deftly dropped into her hand bag and closed it with a snap.

“There will be no text messages, phone calls, internet access or anything that you could possibly send out an SOS with. You’re acting like I am pulling out your teeth.” Paula said with a pout.

“That honestly might be more enjoyable.” You muttered darkly, turning back to the overstuffed bins. After many hushed threats to Paula’s well-being and an extensive amount of digging, you found several pairs of pants that didn’t seem offensive as the rest.

“Oh great and knowledgeable fashion goddess, do these meet your ridiculous notions of what pants should look like?” You presented the garments with a small bow and held them out to her with an outstretched hand.  From underneath your bangs, you could see Paula stifle a giggle before taking the pants from your hands. Much to your annoyance, Paula held up each pair, discarding those that didn’t look sexy enough. You opened your mouth to protest but quickly closed it again, deciding that you wanted to leave the shop more than argue with your friend.

“These are perfect. They’re almost the same shade as the Purple Shirt of Sex.” Paula said referring to the deep purple shirt that Ben had worn during the filming of ‘The Great Game.’ It was extremely well fitted and flattered his slim body immensely. In her hand, Paula held up a pair of purple lace pants that sat low on the waist and only partially covered your rear end.

 _Great. We have found some pants. Now let’s get the hell out of here._ You thought with relief. You must have taken a step towards the door when you felt the weight of Paula’s hand on your shoulder.

 “Let’s get a couple more of these in different colours and then we can find the matching bras. Then and only then, we will be leaving the store.” Paula said, her words deflating your hope of a quick exit. Paula must have sensed your disappointment and offered up some motivation. “If you can find everything in under fifteen minutes, I will buy us some chips.”

With the promise of escape from the shop and fresh chips, you turned back to the bins with an eagerness that earned you a startled look from Paula.

*******

In less than twenty mintues, you emerged from the store with two brightly coloured bags in hand. You took a deep breath, breathing in the delicious smells wafting down from the food court further down the hall and sweetly sick scent of a mixture of cologne, perfume and body odor.  

“Onwards!” Paula said enthusiastically. She scanned the shopfronts, looking for one store in particular.

“Oh no you don’t. You promised me chips and if I recall correctly, I was in the queue in ten minutes flat and if we hadn’t had to wait for the lady who could decide whether she wanted the florescent pink butt floss or that vile shade of green, we would have made it with time to spare.” You said, stepping in front of her.

“But we have shopping still do…” Paula drifted off, straining to see over the crowd at a little shop window that had caught her eye.

“I won’t be able to make it.” You drooped a little, like the bags you were holding became heavier. “You go on love. Remember me fondly.”

Paula rolled her chocolate brown eyes and regarded you with mild irritation. “Well come on then. We have things to do.” She turned and in your opinion, stalked towards the nearest chip vendor. You thought she mutter something about not taking you shopping again.

 _That is a miracle in itself._ You thought as you followed her with a grin

***********

Thoroughly sated, you followed Paula through the crowd back to the dress shop she had been eyeing before your little detour.

“Now this store has everything from casual dresses to the types you see on the red carpet. Or at least cheaper knock off versions.” Paula said, looking about the store with a fond look on her face. “And there is nothing that I like more than a good deal. This is where I got that red dress you liked so much.”

You looked about the store as Paula prattled on about different dress styles. There were dresses of every length and colour adorning the racks. Some were sheer with shining beads crusted on the collars and hems whereas other seemed to make up for their lack of embroidery and jewels with swooping necklines and daring colours. You felt your eyes widen in a mix of fear and shock. These were nothing that you even think of wearing unless it was for a Halloween costume.

“You probably won’t need any dresses like this until you start heading out on the red carpet.” Paula said, pulling towards the back of the store.

“Red carpet?” You choked out. “What makes you even think that I am going to make it that far? That Ben and I will make it that far?”

 _Plus I hate when people are watching me._ You mentally added, your hands brushing against the soft fabrics of the dresses that crowded the rack. Memories or you standing on countless stages with spotlights highlighting the dancers frozen in several different poses, all waiting for the music to begin. Rather than being able to focus on the task at hand, all you could think about was the invisible, faceless people lurking in the shadows, staring at you, judging you, hoping that you would fail. To say that you had stage fright would be putting mildly; petrified would be a much better term. Fear froze you in place and until you consciously focused on the music, you wouldn’t move. More often than not, the dance teachers gave you a part that didn’t require you to start on the stage but were able to enter the dance from the wings long after the music had started. It had become easier when you had a partner because you could focus on their face rather than the staring faces of the audience. Those partners would make jokes, help you focus on your breathing or help you picture the dance studio rather than the room you were about to dance in.

“Weren’t you a dancer? Didn’t you have to dance in front of people” Paula asked, eerily echoing your thoughts.

“Yeah I was and the thought of dancing in front of people terrified me. It still does.” You said with a shiver. “Walking down the red carpet is much of the same thing except that I can see the faces of the people judging me.”

“Judging you? Is that what you think people do when they look at you?”

“I know that’s what they do and what’s to say it’s not going to get worse?” You muttered, turning to look through some dresses on the rack beside you.

“You are beautiful and skilled and I for one adore you even when you are being ridiculous.” Paula said as she took a hold of your shoulders and turned you to face her. You gave her what you hoped to be a smile. Paula didn’t understand, she had the confidence to walk in front of a crowd and say what was on her mind. Years of living with your mother had taught you that people were always waiting for you to slip up. No one was there to appreciate your skill but went out of their way to tell you that you weren’t good enough; you would never be good enough. You could never reach the expectations that they set for you. Perhaps that was why you were becoming more and more anxious about your date. You weren’t going to live up to Ben’s expectations so what was the point in the trying.

“Okay. Forget I said anything about the red carpet and focus on getting you through the first date.” Paula relented after seeing the storm cloud cross your face. “Let’s look for something simple and comfortable.”

After combing through the racks, you grimly headed to the dressing rooms to try them on.

************

You had been the dressing room for at least half an hour, a growing pile of discarded dresses hanging on the back of the door when Paula’s voice came through the door.

 ”Hey do you realize that there is a message on your mobile?” Paula’s voice sounded muffled as you struggled to pull the dress down over your head.

 _Perhaps if I had undone the zipper.._ You thought as you flailed your arms useless above your head.

“What were you saying Paula?” You called back through the change room door once you managed to get the dress off and it was no longer affecting your breathing. You undid the zipper and tried once again to get the garment on.

“There is a message on your mobile and I am not talking about the one from Martin gleefully laughing at you.” Paula answered.  You finally managed to get the dress into place and glanced in the mirror.

_Thanks for the help Martin. Now for the zipper…_

“What’s the number?” You asked or rather grunted as you twisted awkwardly trying to get your fingers on the elusive zipper. After a series of comical shrugs and twists, the zipper finally rested at the top of its track. The last thing to do was attempt to do up the hook at the top of the zipper. Putting your hands behind your shoulders, you strained to reach the little hook.

“No idea. The area code is nothing that I have ever seen before. It’s two numbers.” Paula’s voice was puzzled.

“Well, have a listen. You know the passcode.” You prompted. “Gotcha!” You said triumphantly as you managed to latch the hook securely after a number of tries. You lower arms and gave them a shake as the blood rushed back into them. Glancing in the mirror, you studied the young woman staring back. Her face was a little flushed after the struggle with the dress and her eyes were bright with growing nerves. You turned your attention to the dress you had put on. It was a smoky grey that had a faint shimmer when you moved. The thick straps held the fitted top of the dress securely in place and left your arms bare. The collar was high although not tight to your neck and the waist was fitted. The pleated skirt flared out and the hem ended just above the knee. You gave a spin and gave a little giggle as the bottom of the dress resembled the top of a cupcake.

 _This will great with those turquoise flats I have._ You spun once more and an opening in the side of the dress caught your eye. _Oh dear lord, it has pockets._ Your felt your eyes widened at the pleasant surprise and quickly stuffed your hands in the pockets.  With another glance at the mirror, you figured you could dress it up with an off white cardigan like the one in the shop window. You knew this was going to be a sure purchase regardless of whether Paula though it appropriate or not. You quickly formed your argument in your head before unlatching the door and seeking Paula’s approval.

“What do you think?” You said, doing a small twirl in front of Paula. “It goes nicely with that cardigan in the window and my turquoise flats and best of all, it has pockets.” You finished with a grin as you stopped to study the full effect of the dress in the full length mirrors outside the dressing room.

“Paula?” You turned to face her with concern when she hadn’t responded. Your usually boisterous friend looked stunned as she held your mobile up to her ear. “Okay.” You said slowly as you sat on the bench beside her. “Good or bad?”

Paula finally looked at you, her mouth opening and closing but nothing came out. You leaned over, eased the phone out of her hand and placed to your own ear.

“To replay this message, please press one. “ The computer generated voice prompted. You quickly pressed one, hoping that whatever the message contained was not earth shattering.

“Good evening Miss _________. This Jason Docherty calling from WETA workshop. I am currently in charge of the make-up department and although it is not typical that I am involved in the hiring process, you have come highly recommended to us. I would love to have a chat with you about the possibility of enlisting your skills for the Hobbit…” Jason continued on but you had stopped listening. You had applied for that job months ago and as the days and weeks and eventually months flew by, you had just assumed that you were passed up for someone with a little more skill and experience.

Suddenly the nerves towards your rapidly approaching date seemed to miniscule to excitement that you were experiencing now. You were glad to be sitting down as you began to feel a little light headed.

“Paula? Was that a person from WETA workshop on my phone?” You asked slowly, trying to understand the impact these words were going to have on your life. Paula nodded. “A man from WETA workshop left a voice mail on my phone?” You asked a little louder, in case she had misheard you.

Paula nodded again as a big grin lit up her face.

“Paula! Jason from the make-up department in WETA workshop left a message on my phone!” You jumped off the bench, propelled by your elation.

 Paula stood up and wrapped you in a fierce hug. “You call them back! Don’t you dare not! And I love this dress on you!” Paula said stepping back to admire the smoky gray fabric.

“It has pockets.” You added, your grin widening a little more.

“Your dream job, smoking hot dress with pockets and a date with your crush all in one day? Karma is favouring you my dear.” Paula replied with enthusiasm and she seemed genuinely happy for your success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and please leave a comment about what you thought.


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